


Quilted Together

by cousinD



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Bilbo Has Issues, Bilbo has a crush, Bilbo needs a hug, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family, Family Bonding, Insecurity, M/M, Misunderstandings, Mother Hen Dori, Poor Bilbo, Protective Dori, Protective Thorin, Thorin Has Issues, Thorin is a Softie
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-26
Updated: 2018-10-06
Packaged: 2018-10-11 06:24:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 24
Words: 122,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10457451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cousinD/pseuds/cousinD
Summary: Bilbo wanted a family and then the dwarves showed up on his doorstep. It all worked out rather well.





	1. Alone

Chapter 1: Alone

 

On the night of Bungo Baggins’ funeral, his son, Bilbo Baggins sat in his quiet home and stared at the fire as he thought of his dead father.

Bilbo's grandfather had walked him home after the funeral and all the necessary social obligations pertaining to it had concluded and, once he’d made sure Bilbo was settled by the fire, had made himself busy making tea.

The fire on the hearth was lively and added a warm light to the room. On any other day, the fire would have been quite merry, but Bilbo felt numb all over and couldn’t bring himself to enjoy the fire. His whole body felt heavy. So he sat, still in his best suit, and listened to the fire crackle and the soft sounds his grandfather made in the kitchen. He hadn’t eaten that day, but the thought of food made his stomach churned uneasily. He glanced down at his hands and found they were shaking.

‘Can’t let grandfather see me like this.’ Bilbo clasped his hands together, squeezing them so tightly together that the trembling was stopped. ‘Always be in control of yourself,’ Bilbo repeated the words his father had so often berated him with. ‘There’s nothing quite so unseemly as a person who can’t control their emotions.’

Bungo Baggins definitely wouldn’t have approved of Bilbo letting grief take hold of him, especially not when anyone was around to see it. So Bilbo had forced himself to be calm at the funeral and when relations had approached to give their condolences. He kept his back straight and his head held high, just as his father would have demanded. Even when he reached his home, he couldn’t bring himself to let go of the rigid control he held on himself as his grandfather was in the house and surely wouldn’t have approved of any kind of unpleasant emotion anymore than Bungo would have.

Bilbo found the sound of his grandfather’s footstep to be a welcome distraction from his thoughts.

“Here you are,” Bilbo’s grandfather walked back into the parlor. “Just what you need to settle yourself for the night.” He handed Bilbo a cup of tea before taking a seat opposite of him. 

They sat there for a time, saying nothing. Bilbo kept his hands wrapped around his cup until it cooled and kept watching the fire. Steam rose steadily from the tea.

"You're going to be alright, you know," Bilbo’s grandfather said. "I know it’s hard, now, but you will be alright. The trick is to keep busy. That won't be difficult; you have responsibilities as head of your household, now."

‘Only member of the household, you mean,’ Bilbo thought. ‘I’m alone, now.’

Aloud, Bilbo said, "I know." Bilbo's voice was nothing but a whisper. "I have to go through father's papers. He never liked me in his study… but it has to be done." He thought, with a sudden sting of panic that broke though the numbness, 'I don't know what I'm doing! Father never taught me. I don't know what to do. He hated me hanging about when he was working.'

With a dismissive wave of his hand, Bilbo’s grandfather said, "You'll get the hang of it soon enough. You're smart. You give yourself a few days to rest and you'll be just fine." He gave Bilbo a firm look. "I expect you to be sensible, Bilbo. I know you're upset, but it won't do to start wallowing in self-pity or sulking around the place. It won't do any good. It won't change a thing. You've been thirty-three years old for almost six months; you’re an adult and you need to behave like one. Understand?"

Bilbo felt his throat close up, but he took a deep breath. "Yes, grandfather. Of course." He didn’t dare speak and say what he really wanted. If he’d had any courage at all to speak his thoughts, it had shriveled up and died at his grandfather’s words. But he couldn’t stop desperately thinking, 'Stay the night. Just stay tonight. Don’t leave me.' But he didn't say anything out loud. His grandfather was right; Bilbo was a grow-up and had been for half-a-year. He needed to be sensible... respectable. It was what everyone expected. It was what his father demanded. Really, it was the only way to be in the Shire. But, still, he thought, 'Please, stay with me. I don’t want to be alone.'

Bilbo's grandfather kept on speaking, "I know this is going to be a time of adjustment, but you're a good lad and I'm sure you'll do well. You've got your father's brains and your mother's spirit. You can't fail."

Bilbo was silent as he thought, 'Or I'll stay with you. Invite me to your home for the night. Just one night. Please?'

“You’ll have to start your quilt, soon.” The announcement was made with all due gravity. “It’s tradition.” Bilbo's grandfather rose to his feet. "I've stayed long enough, I suppose. It's been a long day for you; try to get some sleep." He gave Bilbo's shoulder a gentle pat. They said good-bye at the door and Bilbo watched as his grandfather walked slowly down the road, away from Bag End.

'I need you. I can't do this alone,' Bilbo wanted to scream. 'Can't you see I need you?' But he said nothing and stood in the round doorway of his home, feeling like he was falling apart. 'Everyone is dead and I'm alone and I don’t think anyone cares and I'm tired and I want a hug.' No matter how much he felt like doing it, Bilbo didn't cry. His father wouldn't have approved of crying and he certainly wouldn't have stood for crying in the doorway where anyone might have seen such immature behavior. People would have gossiped about it for weeks. ‘I want a hug.’

So Bilbo watched his grandfather go and, when he was out of sight, Bilbo went back into his silent home, closing the door firmly behind him. For a long moment, Bilbo stood with his back against the door and his face lowered. His grandfather was wrong, Bilbo knew. He wasn't going to do well. He didn't even know how he was going to survive the night – he felt like he was drowning. He felt… he didn't know what he felt. He was sort of sick. He did not want to be alone, but he couldn't ask for help. He was an adult - he should be able to take care of himself without any help. He wasn't stupid, after all, so why should he inconvenience anyone by asking for help? Everyone else in his family was also grieving, so it would have surely been selfish to push his worries and fears on them. Besides which, his father would have been so ashamed if Bilbo made a spectacle of himself in front of all and sundry. He certainly would have told Bilbo that it was better to suffer in dignified silence and solitude than to be the cause of gossip.

Bilbo’s eyes went to the large quilt hanging on display on the wall in the dining room. His father had made the quilt years before. It was simple and rather plain, blocks of fabric squares all sewn together with neat, tidy little stitches. That quilt had been his father’s work and, as all such quilts, had been made to represent and honor his family and important people to him. Bilbo found himself drifting a few feet down the hall to his mother’s glory box. He opened the lid and, as he expected, he found his mother’s quilt laying on the very top. His father had packed away that quilt the very day Bilbo’s mother had died. Belladonna’s quilt was nothing like Bungo’s. Rather than tidy rows of squares, hers was a mismatch of shapes and a riot of clashing colors. It was almost as if she’d gone out of her way to make the wildest quilt she possible could.

After he closed the lid of the glory box, Bilbo looked back at his father’s quilt. He considered both quilts and knew, without a doubt, that it would be a long while before he started his – whether it was expected of him or not. And the quilt was DEFINITELY expected.

Bag End was too quiet.

The last rays of the setting sun cast strange shadows on the walls where they came in through the windows. Bilbo quickly rushed to light a lantern, but it hardly helped. Standing in the hall with the lantern in one hand, Bilbo felt himself start to panic, but he had no idea why. It wasn’t as if his father’s death had been unexpected; Bungo had been ill for weeks and had kept growing weaker and weaker until the end. Bilbo had known how bad his father’s health was first hand as he had been the one to nurse his father during those long weeks. But Bilbo suddenly noticed the lantern light begin to dance and it took him a moment to realize that it was because his hand was shaking, again.

“Stop it,” Bilbo told himself, as sternly as he was able to. “Just stop it! There’s no point in getting worked up. Must be sensible! Just calm down. Don’t even know why I’m upset. I’m a grown-up. I can handle this. I can.” He swallowed hard. “I have to.”

But the panicky feeling wouldn’t leave him. He started to feel jittery and the sudden need to do something washed over him like a hurricane gale. He had to busy himself with something – anything! – so that he wouldn't think about how empty the house was. Bungo had always liked a tidy home.

So Bilbo cleaned.

He certainly couldn't sleep. The idea of going to sleep in the house where his father had breathed his last breath, where he'd learned about his mother's death only a few short years before, was miserable. Of course he would have to sleep eventually, but at that moment, he just couldn’t.

Bilbo went to his cleaning closet and pulled out everything he had – broom, mop, dust rags, and buckets for water. He rolled up his sleeves and set to work in the lantern light. Being able to keep everything in order brought a strange calm to Bilbo, as if he was finally in control of something… even if it was only to be in control of how well the curtains hung and that there were no dust bunnies in the hall closet.

It gave him such relief to be busy and active that Bilbo cleaned all night. He cleaned the house twice from top to bottom. He scrubbed the bathrooms and polished the floor. He washed all the windows and folded all the towels. He didn't finish until well after dawn when he finally stumbled to his bed and fell into an exhausted, uneasy sleep.

Even as he drifted away, Bilbo tried not to cry. His father wouldn't have approved of such a pointless waste of energy. Bilbo didn't imagine his mother would have approved, either. He'd never once seen her cry. He tried so hard to do as they would have wished. Bilbo scrunched himself up into a little ball of hobbit under his blankets and tried to force himself to sleep. But the house was still silent and seemed cold, though the fire blazed on the hearth and the sun, just peeking over the horizon, began to send its warm light in though the window. A tear slipped out of one eye and Bilbo immediately felt a sting of shame for it. He knew that even though they were dead, his parents would have been disappointed in him. His father had been too well-controlled and his mother too brave to cry. Bilbo was neither of those things and he didn’t see how he could ever hope to be.

With that thought spinning around his mind, and more tears leaking traitorously down his cheeks, Bilbo finally fell asleep.

The next day was much the same. He was lonely and miserable and couldn't see a way to lift himself out of his depression. His only relief came from chores. Just as his grandfather had suggested, Bilbo kept himself busy and learned that the physical work occupied his mind enough to settle it, if only for a few hours.

People called around to pay their regards, and while Bilbo was sure that his neighbors and relatives meant well, he discovered that he couldn't find much comfort in their visits. It was vexing. He didn’t want to be alone, but he didn’t want visitors, either. Bilbo wasn't entirely comfortable with socializing, he never had been. He'd always done his best to be polite and act as a respectable host should, but he'd always felt rather awkward about having people in his home. It didn't help at all that his callers all gave him such pitying looks and kept talking about how sad it must be for him to be all alone and how dreadful it was about how poor Bungo and Belladonna had both died when Bilbo was just barely an adult. Bilbo had no idea what to say to those comments, so he ended up sitting there, dumbly, staring at his guests or nervously looking away from them. The visits were uncomfortable for everyone and, soon, people stopped calling on him.

Days, then months, then years passed and Bilbo grew quite accustomed to being alone. Being lonely stopped being painful and became normal, so normal that he hardly noticed it. He stopped crying at night and, though much trial and error, learned to manage his estate quite well. No matter how much time passed, Bilbo kept cleaning. His home was always immaculate, spotlessly clean. All-in-all, Bilbo grew to be content... not happy, but content.

Then, Gandalf brought a party of dwarves to Bag End and everything changed.

 

To be continued…


	2. Nomads

A/N: Just as a note, in the original book of The Hobbit, Fili is the youngest of the company which makes Kili his older brother. I've decided to use this in this story for no particular reason other than I want to.

Chapter 2: Nomads

 

“Dori!” Ori’s voice rang out. “Are we there yet?”

From the driver’s seat of the wagon Dori lived in with his brothers, Dori shouted back, “Almost. I can see the walls of Bree.” And what a wretched place it was. He steered the wagon with practiced ease. Behind and in front of them, the rest of the company, all traveling in their own wagons, moved along in a line. The wagons were all very simple – little more than large boxes with wheels with two little ponies to pull them.

“Can I ride, yet?”

Dori looked to the left where Nori trudged along beside the wagon. “No.”

“Aww! Dori!”

“Don’t you ‘aww!’ me! You were caught. Do you have idea how embarrassing it is to have my little brother get caught stealing?” Dori scowled at his younger brother. “I taught you better than that; steal whatever you like, but don’t get caught! Honestly. You know how to steal properly; I’ve been teaching you for years. So, no. You don’t get to ride. You’ll walk until I know you’ll remember to be more careful.”

Nori hung his head. “Yes, Dori.”

“Good lad.”

Rain began to fall as they drew closer to Bree. The line of wagons slowed before they turned and the long caravan made its ways off the main road and into the forest. They carefully negotiated their way by trees and rocks and over the naturally uneven ground until they reached a large open area, a glen that had served them well as camp site the previous times they’d gone to Bree.

Dori, once the wagons had stopped, jumped easily down from the driver’s seat. He heaved a great sigh. Bree was not his favorite place. Thankfully, in their glen, they couldn’t even see the city walls and it would be a dandy little hideaway unless someone happened to stumble upon them.

Rain dripped off the edge of Dori’s hood onto his nose. He was tired from the long day of travel, but no more tired than he was on any other day. He rolled his shoulders and turned away from the pathetic town. It wasn't the first time they'd been to Bree and, like as not, it wouldn't be the last. Unfortunately.

It was such an ugly town. They had stopped at human villages before, but none had ever seemed to quite live down to the sad little splotch of earth that Bree was. The buildings were all drab and in some state of disrepair. The people – all humans – always seemed angry or depressed or a bit of both. There was an awful atmosphere about the whole town, as if everyone knew that this, sadly, was as good as life was ever going to get.

Really, Dori knew he shouldn’t be so quick to dismiss Bree. While it was a thoroughly unpleasant place and the people left much to be desired, they wouldn’t be chased away and, if they were very lucky, they would find work. Almost everyone would go to town to ply their wares, offer their talents, and make use of their skills – anything they could do to earn an income. The females and young would stay at the camp as they were far too valuable to risk if it weren't absolutely necessary.

Nori, clearly tired from his long walk, looked imploringly at Dori.

“Such big eyes, little brother,” Dori chuckled and patted Nori on the cheek. “Go get yourself a drink of water and then come help.”

Nori nodded and did as he was told. 

“Everyone, listen!” The shout caught everyone’s attention and the whole camp went still. Everyone, including Dori, turned to look at their leader, Prince Thorin, who stood with his most respected sister, Princess Dis. Despite the way their family had fallen in recent years, neither Thorin nor Dis couldn't help but command attention. Thorin announced, "We stop for two weeks. Make camp."

It was all the instruction Thorin needed to give. Everyone, knowing what needed to be done after so many years of their nomadic lifestyle, set about work at once. Dori went to begin unhitching the ponies from the wagons and, as his wagon was next to theirs, he easily overheard Thorin's conversation with his sister.

"We'll return in a few hours after we assess the prospects of this place." Thorin grimaced. "I don't expect much, but we made a small profit the last time we were here. With luck, they still don't have a decent smith."

"Be on your guard," Dis told Thorin. "And stay together. Such a dismal place can't be entirely safe."

"I'm sure everyone will be fine. Everyone knows to stay in groups and have picked out their partners, already.” Thorin hesitated a moment. “Dis, how do you feel about your son coming into town with me?"

"Kili? I really don't think…"

"Actually, I had Fili in mind. I know Kili is older, but he is more valuable at hunting. I would have him go with Bombur's eldest and Bifur to find some food. Fili shows promise with smithing and he's not a child anymore. He's also more even-tempered than Kili so I don't think any customer with an attitude will set him off. If you think he's ready, I would be pleased to have him along."

Fili and Kili were ridged with tension as they eavesdropped when they were meant to be brushing down the ponies. They studiously didn’t look at their mother or uncle, though they did keep grinning and each other in that wicked, mischievous manner all young lads seemed to have. The princess' boys were always so excitable.

Dis nodded, slowly. "I think that would be alright. Fili has a sensible head on his shoulders. Yes, I think it will be fine."

Fili and Kili let out a shout of excitement, but settled at once when their mother shot them a stern glare. They went back to their task, barely suppressing their delighted laughter.  
Thorin turned his attention back to his sister. "I'll keep an eye on him. You be wary, also." Thorin put a fond hand on her upper arm. He looked around at their small, busy group. “I never like it when we have to separate the group."

"Well," Dis tossed her hair and raised an eyebrow. "What we 'like' really doesn't affect what needs to be done, now does it?"

"No, sister. Of course not." Thorin turned to go to where the others who would go into Bree with him had gathered and patiently waited for him, but stopped when his eyes met Dori's. Thorin squared his shoulders and approached Dori with a hard expression, looking for all the world as if he were walking into battle. "You will stay here. I don't want you wandering off. This place isn't the safest of towns."

"I have been here before, you know.”

“I know, but I still don’t like the idea of you going there alone.”

It was almost enough to make Dori laugh and he had to struggle not to smile as he knew it would send Thorin into a huff. “Are you worried for me?”

Thorin’s face instantly went bright red.

Still trying very hard not to show any amusement, Dori gave Thorin a pat on the arm. “You know I can take care of myself. Or are you implying that I don't know my own craft?"

"No. Of course I wouldn’t suggest any such thing. We all know you are the best at what you do and I appreciate your skills, but… I worry."

Dori beamed. "How sweet! Now, off with you. I have work to do."

Thorin frown, uneasily. "You'll stay?"

Dori let out a long suffering sigh. "I promise that I won't put myself in any danger. Does that put your mind at ease?"

"Not really, but I suppose it's the best I'll get." And it was. Thorin couldn’t outright order Dori to remain in camp for even though he was prince, Dori unlike most of the people in their group, was not subject to Thorin’s orders.

"Have some faith in me, my dear. Now, go on, off with you."

At the endearment, Thorin turned a darker shade of red. He slowly nodded and left. When Thorin and his group of dwarves who would go into Bree to find work had left, the rest of the group settled into their usual jobs while the youngest child played in the middle of the camp.

Only after Dori had retrieved some mending that needed to be done and had half-finished it, did Dis sit next to him and ask, "You're going into Bree, aren't you? Despite what Thorin said?"

"Of course. I mean no disrespect to Thorin, but he worries too much. We both know that. There are errands that I need to see to and I certainly won't be in any danger, not from untrained humans." He paused a moment before adding, "I'll be taking Ori, with me, too."

Dis nodded. "How is his training coming? Balin has only good things to say, you know. He's very pleased with Ori's dedication to becoming a scribe. So how are Ori's lessons with you coming along? He's doing well?"

The praise made Dori beam. His clever little Ori would undoubtedly succeed in becoming a scribe, but it was always good to hear such nice things. "He's doing very well. Needs a little work controlling his temper, as you know, but on the whole I am very pleased." So he put away his mending and called his brothers to him with specific instructions. "Nori, be a sweet lad and get me a good handful of foxglove, a whole plant if you can. I'd also appreciate a bit of Monk's Hood, if you can find any. Ori, you just come along with me. I want you to fetch me something lovely in the market place."

Ori looked at him skeptically. "You're sure they HAVE anything lovely in Bree?”

"No, but we won't know until we look. Off we go." And so they left the encampment with a promise to Dis that they would return shortly.

The rain stopped just before Dori and Ori reached Bree. Bree was as filthy and unpleasant within the walls as it had been to look at from the outside. The place hadn't changed a bit from the last time they'd ventured into it. It smelled of dung and the unwashed bodies and the smell only grew more offensive the longer they lingered. Still, a town like Bree was often more useful than the tidy little villages they occasionally passed through. They earned a few curious and suspicious looks as they wandered though the town, but no worse than they got in any other town.

"What am I looking for?" Ori asked, quietly. "You said you wanted something 'lovely' but do you have anything in mind?"

"Use your imagination. What catches your eye?"

Ori looked around, discretely, keeping his posture relaxed, and his eyes roaming around as if he were nothing more than a curious stranger in town who wanted to see everything all at once. "There's a bakery, just there." He jerked his head in the direction of where the bakery sat. "Food's always useful."

"True, but the baker looks rather sharp-eyed. He's looking for thieves. Try something with a little less risk."

Ori looked, again, as they continued to stroll down the street. Dori fondly put an arm over Ori's shoulders. He was so proud of his brothers, who both showed skill in not only the skills he taught them, but also in their art - Ori with his words and Nori with his glass-work…ah! Such fine, intelligent brothers he had!

"There." Ori jerked his head, again, and Dori followed the motion. "The candle maker."

"Candles. Good. Now, show how well you've been learning your lessons."

A light flashed in Ori's eyes. It was the same eager brightness Dori saw so often in Nori's eyes when he went out to run errands for Dori. Ori was eager to do well, to prove himself. He enjoyed his work and, with just a few more years of practice, Ori was sure to be an excellent thief. Dori was so proud.

Ori slipped away while Dori turned to examine the stall of a woman selling living chickens squawking away in little wooden cages. It wasn't a moment before Ori, looking quite pleased, appeared at his side.

"Are we buying a chicken?"

Dori shook his head. "I think not. Not when Kili can easily bring down a pheasant or a turkey." They moved off and didn't speak again until they were outside the city gates of Bree. "Well?"

"I found something better than candles." Ori reached into his overly baggy sweater and pulled out his find. With a proud smile he presented Dori with three cakes of soap.

With a wordless cry of joy, Dori grabbed Ori in a tight hug and kissed his forehead. "You are a treasure!"

They walked back to the encampment at a leisurely pace as Dori thought happily about the coming baths. They normally made their soap, but their supply was nearly gone as one thing after another seemed to conspire to keep them from making more. By the time Dori and Ori returned to camp, Nori had the plants Dori had asked him for and proudly handed them over. Dori laid out a blanket to sit on and began to prepare the plants to turn them into the poisons he liked to use.

Thorin and the others who'd gone into Bree arrived shortly after they did and Thorin immediately went to Dori.

Thorin looked at the plants around Dori, suspiciously. "Where did you get those?"

"Nori found them for me. Won’t you sit?"

"You didn't go into the town to get them?"

"Thorin, I can honestly tell you that I didn't go into Bree to find any plants. Don't worry yourself about anything. Now, what about you? Did you find anything interesting in Bree?"

"Work. We will have an income for a time." He smiled and sat beside Dori on the blanket. "Perhaps we can get some repairs done to the wagons. New boots for everyone, too."

Thorin was so pleased with himself, so very proud, that it was impossible not to smile back at him. "And do you think the rest of us will be able to go to town to do some business?"

Thorin frowned, then. "Any thieves will give us all a bad reputation!"

"Are you insinuating that I will get caught?"

"Even you aren't perfect."

"Thorin, my dearest, I am about as likely to get caught as an elf is to go rolling around in a mud puddle. We must all have a chance to support our family, mustn't we? Some want to sell jewelry, some sell their leathers, or needlework, and I," Dori put a hand to his chest. "Have my own particular skills with which to support us all. There is no reason for you to suggest I am not a master in my craft."

"I wouldn't dare suggest any such thing. But people do get upset if they find their pockets picked or their wares missing from their stalls. I would prefer that you don’t steal anything while we’re here." He hesitated before continuing. "I am also going to order that no one go into Bree alone. Bree hasn't gotten any more respectable since the last time we were here. I know you will ignore any orders I try to give - ”

“Yes, I will.”

“- but at least don’t let Nori or Ori go playing around.”

“Ori will stay with Kili whenever possible. You know that.”

“Yes. But Nori?”

Dori looked over to the far side of the camp where, alone under a tree, Nori slowly and carefully strung tiny beads into a necklace. His tendency to slip into dark, bleak moods had lessened considerably since that terrible day when Thorin’s brother, Frerin, had died, but… “He hasn’t tried to hurt himself for a long while.” The possibility of Nori getting it into his head to do something to deliberately get himself killed in Bree wasn’t terribly likely, but it wasn’t entirely out of the question, either. “So long as he has a partner to go to town with, I’m sure he’ll be fine. Bofur. Send him with Bofur.”

On the second day of their time at Bree, with rain once again turning the world gray and wet, Dori sat in the open doorway of the covered wagon that was his family's home, and watched as the others returned to the camp. They were wet and splattered with mud, long hair, beards, and moustaches dropping limply. Usually, everyone would have gathered around a large campfire to rest at the day's end, but with the rain that was impossible. Rather, everyone not in Bree had kept to their family's caravans throughout the day. Dori watched as Bofur wearily went to the wagon with his waiting family, all of them crammed in together. They were the most overcrowded, considering Bombur's large brood of children. When Bofur had let it be known that he thought it a good idea that he and Bifur get a wagon to give the larger side of their family more room, Bombur had immediately drawn up plans to build another wagon. As a Master Woodsmith, Bofur had great talent working with wood and it would be no trouble at all for him to build a wagon, so long as he had the right supplies. As soon as there was time and they didn't have to work every minute of every day, Thorin promised, everyone would help build a fine new wagon for them.

Dori looked over his shoulder to where Ori sat on the floor in the middle of the wagon. "Are you finished? Balin will likely drop by soon to check your progress."

"Almost done." Ori smiled up at him, then returned to his work as he carefully scraped out words on the slate board with a piece of chalk. Occasionally, Ori would frown at whatever he'd written, wipe it off with the edge of his sleeve, and begin again. When he was satisfied with his work, he would present it to Balin to see if it passed judgment.

Dori turned his attention back to the returning workers as they made their way tiredly back to their homes.

Kili, who had spent the day hunting rather than going into Bree, jumped out of their family's wagon when he saw Fili and gave him a warm embrace. Fili waved to Dori cheerfully when he saw him watching then went with Kili into their family’s wagon. Thorin, just behind Fili, followed his nephews, but he was only in their wagon for a moment before he reemerged into the rain and made his way to where Dori waited.

"Hello."

"Hello." Dori waited a moment while Thorin stood there and let the rain fall on him. When Thorin said nothing more, Dori asked, "Do you want to come in?"

"Yes," Nori called out from behind Thorin. He, too, was wet to the bone. His splendid auburn hair hung over his shoulders in a wretched mess. "Do come in, now that you two have a chaperon, after all." He was grinning like a cat when Dori scowled over at him. "Just trying to keep us all respectable, big brother; I know Thorin wouldn't even dream of being alone with you at this point. Would you, Thorin?"

Thorin stiffened and raised his chin. "Of course not!"

"I knew I could count on your good judgment." Nori patted Thorin on the shoulder in a friendly manner. "Sold all those bead necklaces, Dori." Nori pulled a handful of jingling coins out of his pocket and handed it all to Dori before he slipped by him into the wagon. "These humans can't even dream of buying diamonds and rubies, but glass beads are just right for their purses." He started taking off his wet clothes and let them fall on the floor in a heap.

Dori rolled his eyes. "I think Thorin and I are entirely too old to bother with a chaperon, Nori. Thorin, do come in out of the rain."

Thorin did, but didn't sit. He walked the short length of the wagon, stepping over Ori who was sprawled in the middle of the floor, then back to Dori. His face was, as it so often was, grim. All of a sudden, he blurted out, "I met with Gandalf today; in a tavern."

"Really? What about?"

A light sparked in Thorin's eyes. "Erebor."

***

They would march for Erebor.

Thorin asked for volunteers for the quest; he wouldn't order anyone to stand against the great wyrm. He wasn't at all happy when Dori was the first one to volunteer and, later, took him aside.

"Dori," Thorin said. "You won't reconsider?"

"Certainly not." Dori didn't hesitate. "You need me."

It made Thorin smile. "Always. But that doesn't mean you need to come on the quest." He paused for a brief moment and looked away, awkwardly. "I don't want you to get hurt."

Dori tried not to laugh. Thorin, for all his confidence and training, still managed to behave like an untried youth at times. Still, it wouldn't do to hurt his pride by showing amusement. "You're far more likely to be hurt than I. I'm going, as is my duty."

As long as Dori had known Thorin – and they had known each other for many, many years – Thorin had always taken time to think about everything that came his way. That day was no different. Thorin, Dori knew quite well, wasn't the swiftest of Dwarves. He was good and honest and honorable, but he wasn't exactly bright. Thorin required more time to think about his choices before settling on what he would do and once he had settled it took a near disaster to make him change his mind.

Finally, Thorin asked, "Duty?"

A low laugh at Dori's side made the both of them turn to look at Nori. "Dori means he's got a life other than as your betrothed. Or had you forgotten, highness? He's got his own responsibilities. Oin's wouldn't be very happy if you leave Dori behind."

Thorin scowled at his feet then said to Nori, "I did agree that you would accompany us."

"Oh, no." Nori held up his hands and shook his head. "You think an apprentice like me is good enough for our Oin? He'll want a master to mix his medicines for him. And what if something comes up that you need Dori's services for? If some fool threatens you - "

“Dwalin is my guardsman.”

“And a splendid one he is.” Nori grinned. “But can he carry off a discrete assassination? I don’t think so. That sort of thing is best left to professionals.”

“Yes,” Ori chriped up, happily, as he’d crept up behind Nori. “Dori is the best assassin ever!”

Dori gave them both affectionate smiles. “Thank you, my dears.” Then he looked at Thorin. “Even if Oin didn’t want me making his medications for him, do you think I’d just let my little brothers wander off without me?”

In the end, Thorin ran out of arguments. Dori was, in fact, too valuable to leave behind. So he, and his brothers, would make the journey to reclaim Erebor.

Thorin's attention was turned to their next destination – the Shire. Gandalf had promised to have their final companion waiting for them in the Shire and, as Thorin was eager to get the journey started, they began to prepare for the trip at once. There was so much to be done. They hastily sold the rest of what they had before they began pulling up stakes on their encampment so they could set out towards the Shire.

It wasn't far, just a few dozen miles, but none of them had ever gone to the lands of the Hobbits. It seemed strange, and Dori had never really thought about it before, but in all their years of wanderings, none of them had ever suggested going to the Hobbits. Just as they were all ready to go, Thorin saw fit to tell them of the next step of his plan.

"I will ask for help in Ered Luin. Gandalf also told me there was to be a meeting of all the seven kingdoms."

No one was altogether happy about it.

Dori scowled fiercely.

It would have been all the more appropriate for Thorin to send a representative to the meeting instead of going himself. After all, despite current circumstances, Thorin's rank was higher than any of the emissaries who would gather to meet with him. Balin, the obvious choice to be Thorin's emissary, was more than a little miffed when he realized that Thorin had no intention at all of using him. "Don't you trust me?" Balin had bristled.

Throin answered with an easy, "Of course."

"Then why put yourself at risk by going? At the very least, you shouldn't be going alone."

"I am not going alone."

Balin nodded, slowly. "I see. Well, Dwalin is an excellent choice as a guard, but…"

"No. He is needed here. I would see the women and young guarded securely until we reach the Shire. Gandalf assures me of its remarkable safety, but until then there are bandits and other dangers on the road. Even after we reach the Shire, we have only Gandalf's word to rely on that it's safe. He could be entirely wrong about these Halflings and I won't take an able protector like Dwalin away from the family."

"Then who?"

Princess Dis threw an arm over Throin's shoulder and grinned at Balin. "We won't be gone long."

Thorin looked just as pleased as his sister and rather proud of himself. "You see? I am not going alone."

"And you'd rather put Dis in danger than take Dwalin with you?" Balin raised an eyebrow. "What about protecting the women and young?"

Thorin blinked, then laughed. It was a rare, welcome sound. "Dis isn't a real woman. She's my sister."

That earned him a well-deserved punch in the arm from said sister.

"Oh, you know what I mean," Thorin grumbled at her as he rubbed his arm. "I won't go alone and the meeting is too important to risk offending them by bringing too many people. Dis and I will be fine."

Balin tried to persuade them both that risking the royal family was far too dangerous. Thorin would hear none of it. Even when Balin had given up and Dori tried, Thorin wouldn't change his mind.

"I said that I would go and so I will. Don't worry for me."

Dori crossed his arms over his chest. "We all know that you and Dis are eminently capable, but that doesn't mean that accidents won't happen. You should have support. You might need me to kill someone."

"The worst that will happen at this meeting is that I will be insulted and I have been insulted often enough that I won’t need to kill over it. All the support I need is to know that all of you are all together and safe. All of you." He gave Dori such a warm look that Dori almost blushed.

"Enough of that!" Dis snapped. "Keep your silver words for the meeting!" She tugged on Thorin's ear. "We still have things to get ready. Dori, don't worry. I'll make sure he doesn't do anything stupid and gets back to you in one piece."

Dori wanted to kick them both in the shins.

But still, they hurriedly got ready, bid everyone a safe journey, then mounted two ponies and took off for their task. They would meet the rest of them in the Shire.

***

Many days later, the caravan arrived at the borders of the Shire. They entered without any trouble, but, as Gandalf had mentioned that Hobbits weren't much fond of strangers, they decided to keep themselves as much out of sight as possible until their meeting with the burglar. They would stay well clear of any Hobbit, making do with what they had and what they could hunt from the forest, until the night of their meeting and even then they would slip in under the cover of darkness to avoid being seen.

The day they arrived in the Shire was pleasantly warm and Dori enjoyed the smell of the wild roses that grew around the little glade they'd found for their camp. The weather was warm and sunny and everyone was in good spirits.

The whole camp was flurry of activity. It was best, all had agreed, that all the work that could be done before the quest, get done and leave all the less for those who would be left behind. Gloin and his wife were inspecting the wagons for any signs of damage or wear that could be repaired while their son, Gimli, tended to the ponies with two of Bombur's elder children.

Even the younger children had been put to work. Under the supervision of Bombur's wife, they had gone away from the camp to search out as much firewood as possible. Most of all, people had settled down to their crafts. Bofur was carving with his little knife and his store of pipes, buttons, and various toys had grown to a respectable horde. Bombur worked diligently with his unending patience as he dipped wicks over and over in a small pot of melted bees wax to make candles. Ori sat at Dori's feet, drawing some landscape that came purely from his imagination that would hopefully be sold. Balin and Dwalin made an odd sight as they sat on the ground together stringing painted clay beads into bright colored necklaces and bangles. It was a humble sight.

The children were laughing.

Humble, but not bad, Dori knew. The children were happy and didn't miss what they had never had. They were far from rich with gold or gems, but they always managed to earn enough to keep bellies fed and sturdy clothes on their backs. Life could have been much worse. If their quest was to work out as they all hoped, life would be much, much better for everyone.

In Thorin's absence, Balin, of course, was in command. Balin was a gentle sort of commander, with an easy smile and affable disposition. His commands were kindly suggestions and his soft voice never once had to be raised to get his point across. Indeed, even as Dori sat by the fire chopping up potatoes for a stew, he heard Balin asking the young princes to do the washing up from breakfast and was instantly obeyed. Nori didn't even argue when Balin commented that they needed to get the laundry done. Instead, Nori gathered up what needed to be cleaned and went off to a nearby brook to take care of the chore.

Still, Thorin was missed. Dori felt it keenly.

"Dori?"

"Yes?" He didn't bother to look up from what he was doing when Ori spoke.

"Thorin's not back, yet."

"I had noticed." It occurred to Dori then that if Erebor had never fallen, then Ori, even as Dori’s brother, would have not spoken of Thorin without due title. He would have called Thorin ‘his highness’, but no. To Ori, Thorin was simply Thorin. Thorin had had a hand in raising Ori, after all, and there was only so much awe one could inspire after singing lullabies and checking to see that all good little children had washed behind their ears.

"But Balin said we have to meet with Gandalf's friend tonight. How do we do this without Thorin?"

Dori did look at Ori then. "We will do exactly as Thorin asked us to do and meet him at the home of burglar. Thorin will be there."

"But what if he got hurt or what if the meeting turned out to be a trap? It might have been."

"A trap? He's hardly rolling in gold at the moment, is he? All of Thorin's vast wealth includes his sword, two shirts, and a new pair of boots. Even the ponies and wagons are communally owned. Why would anyone hurt Thorin?"

Ori shrugged. "I don't know. Any reason. Accidents happen. Maybe one of them got sick. What if he just doesn't make it back in time?"

"Then we will deal with it. No one is impervious to injury or illness and even as skilled with his sword as Thorin is isn't invulnerable. However, both Thorin and his sister are excellent riders and are in very good health." Dori put an arm around Ori's shoulders and fondly smiled. "We will be off to this meeting shortly and Thorin will join us as soon as he's able to. There is nothing to worry about. Now, why don't you go help gather some firewood?"

When Ori had gone in search of the firewood, Dori finished his work and set it down beside him on the grass.

Really, life could have been worse.

He had always tried to keep that in mind, especially when some of the others began reminiscing about the good old days in Erebor. Balin refrained from such a maudlin pastime, as far as Dori could tell, but Oin didn't and, every now and again, Thorin would fall into a moody silence and everyone knew without him saying a word that his mind was back at that far off mountain where there had once been peace and happiness. Dori wasn't one for moping about the past. There was far too much to think about with the future and, more importantly, the present.

The past was filled with no money for food or medicine for his little brothers. The past was grief and fear. It had been cold and hard… and Dori was glad that the past was done with. He had no intention of ever going back to such a dreadful way of life. It had taken time, but they had eventually learned to survive with very little. Now that they'd gotten used to doing what they had to do in order to have a reasonably comfortable life, everything was much better. They'd all saved until they'd been able to buy the caravans that were now their homes and the ponies that pulled them. They'd gotten accustomed to sparse meals in lean times and feasts when game was plentiful. The younger ones had never known any other life and were not only content, but pleased with their lot.

With luck on their side, Dori thought as he looked up at the drifting clouds, soon the younger ones would need to learn to get used to a life of ease and plenty. They would defeat the wyrm, Smaug, and reclaim the kingdom that had been taken from them. All they needed now was a burglar.

To be continued….


	3. Meeting Under the Hill

Chapter 3: Meeting Under the Hill

 

As Thorin and Dis rode away from the meeting they went as quickly as they could without risking injury to the ponies. Dis had mostly stopped swearing before long, but she glared straight ahead with such fury that Thorin feared she wasn't really watching where she was going and hoped the pony had the good sense to stay on the road. He didn't blame her for her anger and showed his agreement with her opinion by brooding. He was very good at brooding.

Dis swore, again. "It eats at my gut having to beg for help from those toads!"

"We did not beg. We asked."

"Just as bad! And now what? We set out with just us and this friend of Gandalf's? Hardly a force a dragon needs to worry about, are we?"

Thorin hadn't thought it was possible, but his stomach twisted in an even more painful knot than it had already been in when they’d left the meeting. The touchy subject of Dis joining them on the quest would have to be handled carefully and he was reasonably certain he didn’t have the right words to use. He said nothing and they rode a bit further down the winding road that led them westward. Riding hard, they would reach their people in the land of the hobbits in just a few days. Hopefully, it would be enough time to convince Dis that she certainly couldn't be part of the quest; she was needed to look after those who would remain behind. He was exhausted just thinking of the coming argument – Dis never listened to a thing he said. As head-strong as a mule, once she made up her mind about something, nothing short of the end of the world would change it.

"Thorin," Dis said in a more subdued tone. "I've changed my mind about going on the quest."

Thorin nearly fell off his pony. "What? When?"

"Just now. I've been thinking about it and I think I need to stay with the others. We have a respectable number of children now and they'll need every able hand in case of trouble. I think I'll be more use with the families than on the quest."

"Oh." Thorin tried very hard not to grin. "If you think that's best."

"I do. I know it'll be harder without me and it'll put your party at an unlucky thirteen, but with your new burglar, you should be just fine."

"I wish I could send everyone to shelter in one of the dwarven cities while I'm gone," Thorin told her.

Dis snorted. "Hardly likely. None of the lords of the cities would even let our distant cousins stay for fear of us staging a coupe using them. Even when Della was heavy with child we couldn't find anyone who would take her in. Expecting any different will only end in disappointment and we both know, from how that sorry excuse for a meeting went, that none of them are willing to help us."

He couldn't deny that. He was a fool for hoping for such help. He was always such a fool.

Thorin's mind turned back to that complete waste of time of a meeting. His poor pony could have been saved days of travel and, really, he should have known that it wouldn't work out. At least it had been brief. He hated long, drawn-out meetings. Long or short, the response had been quite clear – there would be no warriors, no funds, and no supplies.  
What was he going to tell the others?

Could they even get to Erebor with such a small company?

He should have let Balin go in his stead, just as Balin had suggested.

Well, he reasoned, there was nothing to be done about it but to just deal with the situation. He would have to pretend everything was going to be alright – just as he always did. He often found himself faking self-confidence in order to reassure those who followed him. Confidence in a leader was necessary or the group would suffer. He knew that if the others understood how very badly he doubted himself and fretted over every decision he made that it would only make them anxious. No. He was prince and it was his duty to be strong for everyone.

They made good time; the weather was fair and they ran into no trouble at all on the road. Dis was an excellent rider. Her hands, gripping the pony's reins, were hard and calloused from long years of hard work. Her skin was darkly tanned and weathered from the sun. In another life, as princess of Erebor, she would have had the fairest of skin, always protected from the harsh sun. She should have been dressed in silk and lace rather than the rough wool and leather she wore as they rode. Thorin had once tried to imagine his sister dressed like the ladies of the court he'd seen in his youth, but, somehow, the idea of Dis being a refined lady concerned more with gossip than work didn't seem quite natural.

After several days of riding, they finally arrived at the area where they'd promised to meet up with their people. The sun was hot overhead and the brief coolness of the morning had long since faded away. The encampment was a comforting sight. All five wagons were nestled comfortably in a glade near the roadside. Bombur and Gloin's wives sat by the small fire they'd built, setting up a spit to roast a few rabbits over. The half-dozen children of their company played happily, running around and laughing. Thorin felt his tension ease as soon as he saw how everyone was in such good spirits. He's been worried about them.

"I'll worry less with you here with them," Thorin said as they rode into camp.

"Well, I'm glad you're happy. If there was any other way, I'd be at your side in moment, you know that. However, unless you want to bring the children and the others who are not warriors…"

"Of course you're right." He DID, in fact, want to bring everyone on the quest. The idea of dividing the company in such a severe manner made him feel sick. He wanted to keep everyone together so he could see them and know they were safe. But Dis and Balin had both argued against that plan. The journey would be insanely dangerous. The lengthy road to the Misty Mountains and then the trek over them; the days upon days that it would take them to pass through Mirkwood; the dragon, and whatever else might lurk along their long path, all made the idea of bringing the children along a foolish notion. Eventually, they would have to make the journey, if Erebor were reclaimed, but there was no reason for the risk until they were certain of a home at the end of the trip.

Everyone was busy and kept right on with their work even as they called out happily when they saw Thorin and Dis. A fire had been built up in the center of a clearing which was surrounded by the wagons the families lived in. One of Bombur's daughters ran to them with a mug of cool water which they both took a swig from as soon as they'd dismounted.  
While Thorin had to admit he was disappointed to learn that he'd failed to return in time to go with the others to meet their burglar, he had only missed them by barely an hour, so it could have been worse. He gave his sister a farewell and, exchanging his tired pony for a rested one, he started off for where Gandalf had said the hobbit lived.

Before Thorin left the camp Gloin’s son, Gimli, approached him and shyly asked, "Will you bring him back? I want to see a real hobbit."

Thorin patted Gimli on the head. "Perhaps. We shall see if he wants to help us out. You be a good lad and help take care of the little children, won't you?" Gimli was still quite young, himself, but he'd sprouted whiskers on his chin and was the oldest of the children as Fili and Kili couldn't rightly be considered children any longer.

Thorin rode into the hobbit village well after dark. The moon lit his way as well as any lantern. The village was a large, sprawling place and he rode for a great long while trying to find what Gandalf had called a clear, obvious sign that would tell him where the burglar was to be found. For ages he checked the dark homes, but he didn't see any sign indicating that any of the homes might be the residence of a burglar.

He also didn't find any people. Hobbits didn't appear to be creatures of the night.

After a good time wandering the roads and lanes, Thorin decided that the whole of the Shire was desperately in need of road signs. He considered, quite seriously, whether or not he ought to conquer it when he regained Erebor. He would definitely put up road signs to help poor, beleaguered travelers find their way to burglars' doors. Besides, the Shire was rather pretty, even at night. Unfortunately, as the hour wore on, Thorin was forced to admit to himself that he was well and truly lost in the very pretty Shire. The lack of road signs was to blame, he knew.

For all that the village was liberally dotted with hills that all had large, round doors on the sides to indicate where the homes were, Thorin didn’t see a single hobbit as he made his way quietly through the dark village. It may as well have been a ghost village for all the life that Thorin saw.

'Stop and knock on a door. Someone will tell you where to go.' Thorin could practically hear Balin's gentle voice whispering to him.

And while Thorin knew he should follow that advice – because Balin was always right about everything – it made him angry to think about it. He didn't want to have to ask for help. He was quite willing to bet that no one else in his company had had to stop for help to navigate the roads and he would just end up looking foolish. However, at the rate he was going, it would be daylight before he found the elusive Bag End that Gandalf had decided would be their meeting place and Dwalin would be sent out to find him… again.

Thorin tried to think of an excuse not to knock on any doors to ask for help, but here were no good reasons other than the fact that hobbits were the stuff of nightmares. Not that he'd ever met one, but he'd heard enough bedtime stories from his grandmother to know how monstrous they were. However, he wasn't entirely convinced that they could breathe fire.

The thought of those stories warmed his heart as he remembered long ago times when he'd been a child. He'd spend many happy hours listening to his grandmother's stories. No few nights had ended with Thorin sitting at his grandmother's feet with his younger brother and sister on either side of him. "They grow magical plants that can do anything from healing a cold to bringing the rain," Grandmother had said. "And their feet! They have feet like giants! And they tramp around in their magical valley hidden at the end of the world. They take naughty dwarf children there and once in that valley, no one can ever leave."

Frankly, Thorin thought the magical valley smelled a bit like manure and looked like farm land. He was almost disappointed to find that there were no fearsome hobbits stomping around. There was no one at all around, stomping or otherwise.

"They are nearer to your peoples' height than that of men or elves, but they are remarkably different in most other considerations," Gandalf had said when he'd first told Thorin that he'd decided a hobbit would be part of their company. "They do prefer to live in homes built into the earth, but in small hills rather than mountains. A good people, on the whole. I'm rather fond of them." Gandalf didn't offer any more information about the hobbits other than to assure Thorin that they were a perfectly nice people who were nothing at all like the beasts Thorin had had childhood nightmares about.

At the time, Thorin's thoughts had been too full of Erebor and images of regaining life there to worry about details. Now, wandering the lonely village, he wished he'd asked more questions. He might not be suddenly worrying that despite Gandalf's assurances about the gentility of hobbits, he may have sent his people into the nest of a monster.

He let out a long, tired sigh. It was always the same – he never thought of these things until it was far too late to do anything about it. One diamond short of a dozen, as his father had once bitterly muttered when Thorin's shortcomings had made themselves known.

Thorin had long since come to accept that he had many, many faults and standing in the dark of the Shire bemoaning them wouldn't get him any closer to his company. So he dismounted his pony and looked around. After he picked a random door and raised his fist to knock on the door, he happened to glance to the side and his eyes fell on the tallest hill in the area where the windows of a hobbit's home were brightly lit. It made him pause only because not a single other home had been lit up. Then, he saw the faint shadow of ponies moving placidly about near those lighted windows.

With a serious expression, Thorin looked at his pony and asked, "Are your friends up there?" Then he turned back to the lit-up home and nodded to himself. "Let's go take a look, shall we?"

As soon as he got to the door of the little hill-house where he suspected his people were waiting for him, Thorin heard, faintly, the sounds of merry-making. It made him pause and smile with relief. His people were clearly safe.

Thorin's eyes fell on the impressively big top hinge on the door in front of him with the critical eye of a professional. Not dwarven make, clearly, but not poorly done, either. Out of professional interest, he let his eyes travel down to the bottom hinge on the door where his smile faded into nothing.

It was shoddy.

Clearly, the smith who'd done it had been attempting to imitate the well-done hinge, but had missed the mark rather badly. Thorin was rather amazed that whoever their burglar was had even bother to put the hinge on the door. He'd made enough door hinges during his years as a blacksmith to notice the difference in quality, but even if he had never picked up a hammer in his life, the sad state of the bottom hinge would have been painfully obvious. If Thorin had ever made something so clumsily then it would have been when he'd been a child. Even his young sister-sons had not done such inferior work for many years.

Clearly, whoever was blacksmith in this village ought to have been ashamed of themselves for selling something like that mess.

Thorin rapped smartly on the green door and waited only a brief moment before Gandalf answered.

It seemed that they had all been eagerly waiting for his arrival as, when the door opened, he clearly saw everyone of his company standing around in the hall. They looked well and comfortable and that was enough to cheer Thorin, if only a bit. His sister-sons, standing side-by-side, as they always did, were hale and healthy. As he looked around, he counted heads and was pleased to see everyone was accounted for. His eyes lingered momentarily on Dori.Then his eyes stopped on the one unfamiliar face in the hall.

The hobbit. It must be the hobbit.

The first thought that shot through Thorin's mind was that the dainty little creature certainly was no monster and he wished he could tell his grandmother that rather than beasts resembling rabid trolls, hobbits seemed to be more like adorable bunnies. He then wondered if the little creature was male or female. Hard to tell. It had a petite little nose, but then Kili's nose was a tad on the smallish side, too, and he was definitely male.

Certainly, the little one wasn't a dwarf – not with those ears or feet. It had the face of a baby - all soft and smooth – with bright, innocent eyes. Its' feet, Thorin noted, were immense. Not simply large, but huge. They were well more than double the size of any dwarf's feet and were covered generously in thick hair that was almost like fur. It had large eyes and was fair-skinned with strangely short, curly hair. He found himself wondering if the little one was full grown or still a child. It was tiny, the top of its head only just reaching Thorin's shoulder, and it hadn't even the first whisper of whiskers. The lack of facial hair might simply have been the nature of hobbits. After all, one didn't frequently see elves with facial hair and as he had never before seen a hobbit or heard anything reliable about the reclusive race, he had to presume that this was simply the way that hobbits looked. They were very like dwarves, Gandalf had said. They were long-lived and industrious, so the soft, childish appearance was surely one of those small differences that Gandalf had failed to mention.

The hobbit wore a robe that seemed to be made of small pieces of rags all sewn together.

"A dressing gown, it's called," Dwalin later informed Thorin. "Mister Baggins says it's quilted."

Quilted, obviously, was the hobbit word for rags.

Thorin looked around the front hall of the little house and found it to be tidy place and, while it wasn't covered in gold, all the furniture and little decorations bespoke a comfortable life. Thorin felt a surge of pity for their host. He didn't understand why, but the hobbit was clearly wallowing in poverty while living in a fairly decent home. Likely, it wasn't the hobbit's home. Perhaps the hobbit was a servant in the house and the master it served didn't treat it well. Thorin sniffed disdainfully as he looked at the little hobbit. He remembered having servants back in Erebor; he never would have treated them so shamefully. He would have made certain his servants were well taken care of.

"So… this is the hobbit?" He hadn't meant it unkindly, but it must have been somehow offensive because the hobbit didn't reply and looked affronted. Thorin reviewed what he'd said, but couldn't find anything insulting in it. It was only a question. He would ask Balin what he'd done wrong, later.

The hobbit nodded when Gandalf introduced them and Thorin found out from Gandalf's introduction that the hobbit was, in fact, a male. The introduction also bought an instant stab of shame at the brief, low bow the hobbit gave him. A real king would have garnered a far more respectful greeting. Whatever insult he'd given must have been dreadful. Or were his short-comings so obvious that Master Baggins could see them after just a moment's acquaintance and judge that he was unworthy? He straightened his back and tried to stand as commandingly as he remembered his brother doing. He wouldn't have this mission ruined because his faults had failed to impress their burglar.

Respect or no, Thorin was provided a very tasty stew and, for that, he was grateful. Life after the fall of Erebor had quickly taught him to be grateful for little kindnesses. He was all the more thankful when Master Baggins set two thick slices of buttered bread beside the bowl of stew along with a mug of tea.

At one point, while Thorin ate, Master Baggins retreated to his kitchen and Thorin took the opportunity to ask Balin, "Is the hobbit suitable?"

"He's a bit twitchy, but seems a good sort. A little meek." Balin gave him a hard look. "And before you start sulking about that quick bow he gave you – because I know you will – let me tell you that he gave each of us the same one. I do believe that's just how hobbit's do it."

Well, that was good to know and eased his wounded pride. "Tell me, are all hobbits so…" He trailed off for a moment, trying to organize his thoughts and phrase what he wanted to say. "Are they all so child-like?"

Balin chuckled. "I'm sorry to say I have no idea. We've never had reason to deal with them; this Shire of theirs is just too far from Erebor to have offered any reason for trade or alliances. I don't think the library of Erebor had a single mention of them. For some reason, we've never come here looking for work after Erebor." He paused. "If I might make a suggestion, lad?"

"Of course." Thorin always took Balin's advice to heart.

"As we know so little of these hobbits, it might be wise to send off a letter to the head of our burglar's family to let them know he's off with us. Most folks get tetchy if they think you're running off with their family and I don't think we'd want to deal with a whole mob of hobbits running us down to retrieve their kinsman."

Thorin mulled it over and, at length, nodded. "A sound idea." He looked at Gandalf. "Where might we find the current head of the Baggins family?"

"If you write a letter," Gandalf said, "I will see that it is delivered directly into the hands of the correct person tonight and return with a reply."

He borrowed paper and ink from young Ori, but when he had it in front of him on the table, he suddenly didn't know what to say. When Balin kept watching him, Thorin muttered, "Give me some time to think."

Master Baggins returned, then, and their meeting began in proper. They told the story of the dragon and their quest to oust it from their home. It was all going quite well until Master Baggins swooned in a faint. Thorin refused to take responsibility. No, that was to be blamed entirely on Bofur's all too enthusiastic description of what it would be like to be burned to death by dragon fire.

It surprised no one, least of all Thorin, that Dori reached Master Baggins' side at the same time as Thorin and when they couldn't revive him at once, it was Dori who slid his big arms under Master Baggins and easily picked him up. "Anyone know where his bed might be found?"

Gandalf directed them to the bedroom and, while the rest of the company waited in the dining room, Dori and Thorin settled Master Baggins in the little bed. Dori took his time tucking in the hobbit, pulling a worn quilt up to the bare chin and giving him a pat on the head. "I remember doing this for Ori when he was a child," Dori muttered turning to Thorin with a little smile. "He's too old to get tucked in now – or so he tells me."

"Fili has told me the same, but I think Kili likes a little spoiling." It sometimes surprised Thorin how much of himself he saw in Kili. He frowned at Master Baggins' still face. "He seems young, doesn't he?"

"Like a babe." Dori gingerly ran a hand over the intricate braids covering his head. "I have never met a hobbit before tonight; I can't judge his age. Still, he lives alone, so I suppose this is simply what adult hobbits look like. Right?" He looked as skeptical as Thorin felt.

"I suppose that must be. Are you sure he lives here alone? I thought he might be a servant, considering the rags he wears."

Dori chuckled. "That's what I thought, but he was very proud of that robe of his when I asked about it. I expect it is a fashion here. He is the owner of this home."

"I'm glad to know that before I said something to embarrass everyone. I can always rely on you." Thorin hesitated then said, "I know I said that I didn't want you coming on this dangerous quest, Dori, but honestly… I'm very selfish. I find that I'm pleased you ignored me and came along. You have a way of making me feel stronger and braver than I really am."

Dori slapped Thorin gently on the shoulder. "Go on! You'll have me blushing like a young lad!" He gave the little hobbit a glance, then motioned at the door to Thorin. "I think we ought to leave him be so he can rest, don't you?"

They quietly left the bedroom and closed the door behind them.

Bofur had organized the house cleaning by the time Thorin and Dori rejoined the group. "Can't have the lad thinkin' that dwarves are poor houseguests, can we?" He cheerfully grinned over his shoulder at Thorin while he used a little broom to sweep under the table they'd been eating at. "We won't get invited back and I like having a place where I'm not being glared at all the time. He's a mild little thing, isn't he?"

Fili pushed by Thorin with a tiny broom and a little pan. He got onto his hands and knees and began to sweep the kitchen floor. "I like him. He's cute. Like a puppy. I always wanted a puppy."

"I'm not getting you a puppy so stop asking," Thorin grumbled. He'd been getting the same request for decades. At least Kili had stopped asking for a unicorn.

"But he was nice," Kili had an armful of boots he'd collected from their companions. "He found a place for our weapons and the tea he gave us was hot. He's just a little nervous, I think. I'm going to knock the dirt off these outside. We tracked an awful lot of dirt inside and I don't think Master Baggins was happy about it. Everyone else, take off your boots, too!"

Nori slipped into the room and crossed his arms. "I just had a scout around and I can tell you that this hobbit has every reason to act like a nervous ninny. Anyone could break in here. Have you seen the locks on his front door? No? Neither did I because he hasn't got any! No locks on the windows, either." Nori snorted. "It would take me days to get this place properly secured."

While everyone set about scrubbing the dining table and any other little bit of cleaning they could think of to do, Thorin decided what he would write to the head of the Baggins family. Thorin went back to the table where Ori's paper and ink waited.

 

To whoever is Bilbo Baggins' next of kin,  
I will have Bilbo Baggins as a burglar on my quest. If he doesn't die, I'll try to see that he returns to you. If you have any objections, state them now.  
Sincerely,  
Thorin

 

Thorin read over his letter and was satisfied with it. It was to the point and said everything that needed to be said. He took a moment to show it to Balin.

Balin gave Thorin a thoughtful look. "Would you mind if I made a suggestion?"

"Of course not."

Balin set aside Thorin's letter and took a clean piece of paper to write on.

 

To the most honored head of the Baggins' family,  
Greetings. I am writing to inform you that I have made the request of Master Bilbo Baggins that he accompany me on a journey of great importance. His skills and knowledge are necessary in order for our righteous mission to succeed and it is my sincere hope that he will be kind enough to travel with us.   
I understand that, as family, you are most likely worried for his safety, but please know that you have my word of honor I will do all in my power to safe-guard his well-being and to return him to his home at the soonest possible time.  
Should you have concerns or questions please feel free to ask.  
Best wishes to you and to your family,  
Most sincerely,  
Prince Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thror

 

Thorin read over Balin's letter. "You make me sound smart."

It made Balin sigh and shake his head. "Laddie, your father and grandfather's treatment of you is something I will never understand. You are not stupid, Thorin. You never have been. You listen to me about everything else; so why won't you believe me when I tell you that you are smart?"

Thorin felt a rush of affection for the elder. "You are too kind, but I know that I am slower than others and it's good that father and grandfather were wise enough to teach me that fact. I understand that I never would have been a good king and having father appoint Frerin as his heir was the right thing to do. I am far more suited to swing a sword in battle than to deal with politics."

Balin opened his mouth to say something, but shook his head. "I don't think you'll ever really hear me when I speak on this subject."

Gandalf left with the letter not a moment later and promised to return in all haste. He didn't lie. Within the hour, while Master Baggins still slept, Gandalf returned bearing with him a reply.

 

Dear Mister Thorin,  
You'll excuse my common tone as I don't stand on such formality as you're apparently used to. It's always pleasant to meet new folks and I'm glad that Bilbo is having interesting guests. On the subject of this proposed journey of yours: please be assured that Bilbo's decision on whether to go or not is none of my business, but I do thank you for letting me know. The boy does get absent-minded at times and would likely have forgotten to tell anyone he was leaving.  
Do stop by for tea when you've the time.  
Most sincerely,  
Thain Gerontius Took

 

Thorin nodded and folded the letter into a small square before he stuffed it in his coat pocket. "That's it, then. All we need is his signature, if he decides to come." It struck Thorin as rather odd that the head of Master Baggins' family didn't seem to care whether or not Master Baggins ran off with complete strangers. Still, it wasn't his place to tell other people how to govern their families.

"You're sure he will sign?" Gloin asked. "Seems to me that he might not be all that eager to leave his comfortable home. And who could blame him? Give up all this for the chance to face a dragon?" He gave a significant look to all those around who'd been old enough to remember Smaug. "He'd be a true fool to sign that paper."

As depressing as it was to think on it, Gloin was right. Master Baggins had no reason to sign the contract. Even the amount of treasure Thorin had promised him, a vast sum from the wealth of Erebor, was nothing if one died while trying to claim it.

Rubbing his forehead, Thorin decided that the best strategy would be to go to sleep and let things work themselves out in the morning. So he turned to his people and found everyone watching him. "Get some sleep. We leave at daybreak."

Gandalf assured them that they were welcome to sleep in Master Baggins' home. In fact, he told them that if they did leave to take rooms at an inn or just settle in under a tree as Thorin had planned, the hobbit would surely be insulted. Hospitality was very important to Halflings.

The families began to group together for the night. They slept in chairs, on and under tables, on the floor, and everywhere else they could. Dori herded his brothers into a corner of the parlor where he sat up until both Nori and Ori had fallen sleep. Bifur, as the eldest of his family, covered Bofur and Bombur with borrowed blankets, laughing at something Bombur quietly said.

When everyone was asleep and the sound of soft snoring could be heard throughout the little house, Thorin turned his attention to Gandalf. The two of them sat together by the fire, smoking for a time before Thorin spoke.

"I think highly of you and your advice," Thorin began. "My father and grandfather spoke of your wisdom often. But I must ask what was going through your head when you decided that the perfect burglar for this quest was going to be a scrawny, faint-y boy like that?"

"What was going through my head was that you need another member of your party, one who doesn't smell like dwarf. I tell you, he is the lucky one for you. Without him, your quest would be altogether different. If he doesn't seem like much of an adventurer to you, that is because this will be his first."

"You would give me a complete novice?!" Thorin hissed, appalled.

Gandalf gave him a pointed look. "YOU are the one who allowed Fili, Kili, and Ori to come along. How much experience do they have in such dangers?"

"That is different. They need the practice to see them through life. This hobbit of yours seems unlikely to require such experience. Besides, my nephews would certainly have followed if I hadn't brought them along and Ori will obviously follow Kili wherever he goes. Better to have everyone where I can keep an eye on them rather than have them trailing behind where any threat could take them. What I need now is someone WITH experience who can be an asset to my company."

Gandalf fell quiet for a time. Then, "You asked my advice and I gave it. I choose Mister Bilbo Baggins for your company. If you chose not to take my advice, that decision is yours. I will not bully you."

He didn't like it. Thorin absolutely didn't like it. However, when Gandalf had told him that they needed one more member of the company and that he knew just the person Thorin hadn't been one to question. No sane person would argue with Gandalf when he appeared offering advice, even if he didn't explain himself fully. But he couldn't help but be wary of bringing the quiet little hobbit along.

In the end, Thorin sighed and rubbed his eyes before he finally said, "If he agrees, then he can come. I will reserve judgment about him until he proves himself."

 

To be continued…


	4. A Terrible Host

Chapter 4: A Terrible Host

 

On the morning that Gandalf came to visit for the first time since Bilbo had been a small child, everything was perfectly normal. That was to be expected as Bilbo had spent his life since his father’s death making sure that his life was as normal and respectable as possible. In part, it was to please his relations. They all expected it and Bilbo had some deep, dark wish that if he were as perfectly respectable as possible, they would one day approve of him. Mostly, however, he followed his routines because it gave him comfort. Anything out of the ordinary was extremely distressing and played havoc with his nerves.

Bilbo dressed carefully before he went outside to enjoy the sun on the bench in his garden. His buttons were polished. His clothes were clean and pressed. The hair on his head and feet were neatly brushed.

Before he left his home, Bilbo walked though it to make sure it was empty. He lived alone and had done so for many years, but he checked to see that it was empty. Bilbo couldn't explain why he did that, but he did. He HAD to walk around his house every time he needed to leave for some errand. It was another little habit that had developed after his father’s death. He didn't like doing it and really didn't want to as it wasted so much time, but the few times he had tried not to, the idea that someone may have snuck into his home plagued his mind until he'd rushed home to thoroughly search for trespassers. There never were any, but still… he had to search or it would keep nagging at him. It was exhausting. He wished someone would tell him how to stop, but he'd never told anyone about that little quirk of his; he was sure no one would understand - how could they when he didn't even understand?

So Bilbo lived with his little quirks and had adjusted to them rather well, in his opinion. Those quirks that had helped him get passed his father’s death had quickly turned into habits that helped him keep his life more or less stable.

He basked in the warmth of the sun when he sat in his garden. The day was calm and all was quiet until a large shadow fell over Bilbo. He looked up to find a big person looking down at him and cringed only a little. That it was Gandalf who’d come to visit him had sparked a little happiness, but the moment the word ‘adventure’ was mentioned Bilbo beat a hasty retreat into his home. He certainly didn’t need that sort of chaos.

Later, a whole pack of dwarves had shown up and everything had spun wildly out of control.

The first dwarf was bad enough, as he'd walked in without wiping his feet and had therefore trod a mess of dirt onto Bilbo's clean floor, but then more of them just kept coming until Bilbo's whole home was overflowing with dwarves. He had an embarrassment of riches when it came to dwarves of the large and well-armed type.

Bilbo felt his heart thumping and thumping away as he watched them all. It was sort of a blur. They were moving his things. The table did NOT belong there! And the chairs… everything had to be put back in the right places! He tried to stop them, but no one listened. It was as if he was invisible.

The last dwarf to arrive was the worst. He was tall and looked angry and Bilbo had the irrational urge to run off and hide when that dreadful scowled turned on him. Thorin, the leader of the bewildering group, was grumpy and glared a lot, but he smiled to see his people and, when offered supper, sat to eat politely enough. He ate every last bite of the food Bilbo set before him, even though Bilbo was painfully aware that it was a poor offering. Any hobbit would have been horrified to offer a guest such a sad meal and the rest of the dwarves had obviously felt Bilbo was inhospitable, too, as they’d made free with his pantry and set out their own supper. He had never been so embarrassed him in life!  
‘I’m a terrible host. They must know it, somehow. Maybe one of the neighbors told them. They think I wouldn’t feed them. Maybe they think I can’t cook.’

Bilbo was well-aware that his culinary skills were rather crude. He’d always been more inclined to sit in the library with a good book than to fuss over his skills in the kitchen, but his cooking wasn’t bad! He could have fed them all with little trouble, but they hadn’t even given him a chance. Maybe… maybe they could just tell – somehow – that Bilbo wasn’t a very good hobbit.

And then they started telling a story. Bilbo did so love a good story. He’d just started to think that the evening might be manageable when one of the dwarves had to go talking about horrible dragons and Bilbo was done.

He’d fainted dead away.

Bilbo woke from his swoon with thoughts of warriors and dragons and elves and awful sorrow. And then Gandalf was talking to him and said how awful it was that Bilbo was so comfortable in his home. Maybe he didn't use those words, exactly, but that was what Bilbo had heard. Gandalf, whom Bilbo's mother had been so fond of, didn't think it was at all good that Bilbo was contented in his home. He disparaged the fact that Bilbo cherished the memories kept in Bag End, memories of his long dead parents. Why? Why shouldn't he value the things his parents had left behind? He had nothing else – no one else.

"The world isn't in your books."

The words nearly brought Bilbo to tears. He’d always dreamed that Gandalf, who had been so kind and gentle in Bilbo’s memories of the brief time they’d met when Bilbo had been a child, would return, but… not like this.

Gandalf left Bilbo and, alone, fought to keep control of himself. That Gandalf was incredibly disappointed was clear as day, but there was no reason to be rude about it. Gandalf’s disapproval hurt and confused Bilbo. It wasn’t fair. He only ever tried to please the people around him, but no matter what he did, it wasn’t good enough. Now, Gandalf was unhappy with him and Bilbo didn’t understand what he’d done wrong.

Bilbo pulled his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them as he tried to get his thoughts into some sort of order. His thoughts were buzzing around wildly and he was shaking and he was hurt. He desperately wanted to clean something. He'd wait until they were all asleep before he went to get a broom from the hall closet so he could start sweeping the floor. Gandalf was supposed to be his friend and yet he’d brought all these people and he’d said such things about Bilbo’s life and YES! Maybe Bilbo didn’t have the exciting life he’d once dreamed of, but it was his life and there was no reason for Gandalf to be rude and condescending about it! 

Bilbo felt like crying.

They were still out there - he could hear them moving around – and they were probably still moving his things and leaving dirty fingerprints all over everything. They’d actually been horrible enough to throw his dishes around, even though they hadn’t broken anything in the end. There were muddy footprints all over the house and he was going to spend days cleaning. The idea that all those strangers had just walked in and started disrupting everything…

How was he ever going to fix his home?

It had been a rather trying evening. So many guests and he hadn't had time to set out a proper spread for them and the grumpy dwarf who'd arrived last hadn't had anything but the last of some stew and bread and if the markets had been open, Bilbo would have run as fast as he could to get something more, but it was too late and WHY did everything have to go wrong? Bilbo felt a fresh flush spread across his face – he hadn't even been dressed decently!

As Bilbo sat in bed, a soft, gentle sound began to make its way through the smial. He slowly sat up and leaned heavily against the bedpost. Music. Someone was singing. His guests… his awful, crude guests with their burping and shouting and throwing things… they were singing so beautifully.

'Mother used to sing,' the thought drifted across Bilbo's mind. 'But never so sadly.'

The song was more than just sad, it was mournful and Bilbo felt his chest tighten at the sound. The dwarves were splendid. Their voices were so beautiful, so unspeakably painful.

The song faded away and, still, Bilbo kept listening. He heard grumbling and soft talking. Then the light beneath his closed door went out and the smial fell altogether silent. Bilbo closed his eyes and took a deep breath in through his nose as he considered his guests. He stood up and began pacing the room. What a nightmare they’d lived through!  
With such sad thoughts in his head, Bilbo ran a hand over his face.

It wasn’t as if he didn’t want to help. In fact, the idea of adventure tickled at something inside of him, as if it were trying to wake. But he wasn't fool enough to think he was capable of such a trip – he'd never gone more than a few days walk away from home. He’d be completely useless.

‘But I can give a little help.’ Bilbo tapped his foot and looked up at the ceiling, thoughtfully. ‘I could buy some supplies for them in the market. They’ll need food and medical things and whatever else might be useful. And they’ll spend a night or two here to rest up before they set out. They’re good folks, even if they do move my furniture and get my floors dirty. They’re good people and they deserve to be helped.’

In fact, Bilbo decided as he reflected over the evening, dwarves were largely undeserving of their rough reputation. He had heard rumors about dwarves and their near savage love of war and all things violent. He had heard the sneering whispers that said dwarves never bathed and had beards and hair so wild that birds could be found nesting in them. He had listened in when people laughed at how crude and ill-mannered dwarves, as a race, were.

Ill-mannered, perhaps, but he couldn't find himself agreeing with anything else. However much they'd invaded his home, they had been generally pleasant. There had been laughter and music and songs. The most bad-tempered of the lot, Thorin, even played something as charming as a harp and played quite well. Before the talk of the dragon, they’d all gotten out their instruments to play and it had been truly lovely! Bilbo had never known anyone to play a harp, but Thorin had held his little harp on his lap while he and the rest of his party sang. There had been flutes and fiddles and all manner of wonderful instruments. As for their hygiene, while they were rather on the hairy side, they seemed as clean as weary travelers could hope to be and he didn't find their scent offensive, though he did decide that when morning rolled around, he would offer to let them all bathe before they left… if he could sort out the plumbing.

But they definitely didn't seem all that savage. They clearly appreciated good food and that was a definite mark in favor of their civility, to Bilbo's mind. Not one of them had hurt him or even threatened to do so. They had all set their weapons aside when they'd entered his home without being asked to. Even their quest was nothing to be ashamed of – they would reclaim their lost home. They would make it a home, not only for themselves, but for their families and for all the families who'd been made wanderers after the dragon's attack. It was a noble venture, something that they could shoulder with pride. They were heroes even before they'd begun.

Heroes. The thought brought a pang of something to Bilbo's heart.

There was a knock at the door. A moment's pause, before it crept open and let in the warm glow of a candle's light.

"'Scuse me? Master Hobbit? Are you awake?"

When the dwarf held up the candle in his hand, Bilbo smiled when he saw that it was only the young, dark-haired dwarf who was looking at him. From what little Bilbo had seen, that one was about as threatening as a kitten.

Bilbo sat on the edge of his bed. "Can I help you?"

The door opened fully and the young dwarf smiled at Bilbo. "You are awake! May I come in?" Without waiting for an answer, the dwarf walked in. "I just wanted to see you were alright and to say something. I was afraid you'd still be asleep. Are you feeling better?"

"I'll be fine. Just needed a bit of a lay-down, is all. I'm sorry – Kili, right?"

"Right!" He seemed remarkably pleased to be remembered. Without any hesitation at all Kili plunked himself down on Bilbo's bed and grinned at him. He leaned a little closer and whispered, "I wanted to thank you."

"Thank me? For what?"

"For everything! It's been so long since my belly's been this full!" Kili put both hands on his stomach and grinned broadly. "I think I might burst."

"You don't have big meals often?"

"Sometimes we don't have any meals." He said it with artless ease, completely missing Bilbo's horrified expression. "Uncle Thorin said that's why Fili and Ori and I are so scrawny and he doesn't like that a bit. It's not important. You've been so nice to us. I don't think anyone's ever welcomed us into their home without asking for payment." Kili went still, then, and looked closely at Bilbo. "Are you going to ask for payment? We don't have much, but I'm sure - "

Bilbo jumped to his feet and planted his fists on his hips as he faced Kili. "You think I'd take payment from guests?!" The thought immediately set a flush of shame up on Bilbo's face. What a poor opinion they had of him! It was no mystery why - he'd gone and fainted before sulking alone in his room, while his guests had been left to fend for themselves – his father would have been furious at such a breach of etiquette. They all probably thought he had the manners of a pig! So Bilbo held himself as tall as possible and said to his obviously young guest, "I will hear of no more such talk. A guest paying? Oh! If my father even thought I would - "

"Where is your father?" Kili asks, suddenly. "It was so late when we all arrived that there was no one about in your village. We thought we'd at least see your family."

The question caught Bilbo so off-guard that he froze, for just a moment. "Ah. Well, my parents died quite some time ago."

Bilbo suddenly found himself with an armful of dwarf. Kili hugged Bilbo tightly. "I'm so sorry! Both of your parents?" When he pulled away from Bilbo, Bilbo was shocked to see that Kili was on the verge of tears. "Who do you live with, then? My brother and I have Uncle Thorin to take care of us since our father died, but our mum is still alive. Ori and Nori were mostly raised by their big brother, Dori. Do you have a big brother?"

"No. I'm on my own. Look, there's nothing to get worked up about. My parents died a long while ago. I've… well… I've gotten used to being alone."

Kili's eyes widened. "That's awful! I don't know what I'd ever do if I was all alone!"

As there was really nothing to say that could make the fact any easier, Bilbo awkwardly patted Kili on the shoulder. "I'm quite old enough to take care of myself, after all."  
"Are you?" Kili cocked his head to one side, like a curious bird. Then he laughed and scratched at the back of his head. "Sorry. You look so young."

Bilbo was utterly charmed. "What a sweet compliment! For that, you get a treat."

Bilbo led Kili out of his bedroom, with the candle in his hand, and headed for the kitchen, but stopped as they passed they passed the parlor.

"What's wrong?" Kili asked, leaning down to whisper at Bilbo.

"My ancestors are rolling in their graves with shame," Bilbo muttered, horrified. All around his parlor, dwarves were sleeping on the floor. True, they had bedrolls, but still… guests were sleeping on the floor. He really hadn't fed them at all well. He hadn't even offered a pipe to any of them. He hadn't even thought to offer the eldest of them a comfortable chair to rest their feet. The dwarves were cuddled up against one another, presumably for extra warmth. The fire had gone to sleep and the night was chilly. That, at least, was something he could remedy.

With a shake of his head at his terrible thoughtlessness, Bilbo led Kili to the kitchen and got a glass of milk for him. "It will help you sleep. I think you shouldn't be up so late."

"You're probably right. Thorin wants to leave first thing in the morning and I'm awful about sleeping on pony-back. I always fall off." He took the milk and drank it with several large gulps, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand when he'd finished it. "Thank you. It was a great treat."

That a glass of milk should be considered a treat seemed very sad to Bilbo. "Oh, that wasn't the treat. That was to get you to sleep. This is the treat." Bilbo took his large, glass cookie jar off its shelf and began to empty the contents into a bag. It was bulging full when he finished and tied the bag closed with a length of twine. "It's for your journey. Not healthy, I'm afraid, but save them until everyone needs a little cheer." He had intended to give the boy one cookie, but how could he not sacrifice his snacks for a boy who clearly thought a glass of milk was a grand luxury?

If Bilbo had given Kili a bag full of mushrooms, Kili couldn't have looked more pleased. As if something like a bag of cookies was all that splendid! Why, Bilbo would just have to whip up a quick batch of apple bread and send that along for good measure, too, just to see how Kili would like it.

Kili took the bag of cookies with both hands and held it tightly to his chest. "Thank you. I'll keep them safe, I promise."

"Good, but don't keep them too long or they'll go stale on you."

"They can go stale?"

"Have you never eaten cookies before?"

Kili nodded, eagerly, his long hair flopping around his face. "Oh, yes! Once, Thorin had been on a long trip and when he returned he brought cookies. One for me and one for Fili. It was wonderful!"

To have only ever had one cookie… Bilbo suddenly had to fight off the urge he had to give Kili a snuggle as he would have one of his younger cousins if they'd fallen and scraped a knee. "Well, I hope you'll like the taste when you do eat it. Why don't you get yourself off to bed? I've got some things to finish up."

He followed Kili back to the parlor where Fili lay snoring away on the floor. Kili took his place next to his brother and Bilbo quietly apologized for the rough sleeping arrangements. "I don't get visitors, you see. No one ever spends the night so I haven't got a single spare room made up."

Kili looked surprised, then grinned. "I like the sleeping arrangements just fine. There are no rocks or sticks poking into my back and when morning comes, I won't have to worry about snakes having crept into my bedroll with me. Believe me, I like your floor perfectly well." He settled himself next to his brother, but looked expectantly at Bilbo. "You can join us, if you like. It can't be nice to be alone and I know Fili won't mind."

Bilbo chuckled. "A kind offer, but there are some things I need to get done. You get some rest." Though he was much taller than Bilbo, Kili was clearly a child. Bilbo had heard about the extended lifespan of dwarves. While not eternal like elves, they did live a great deal longer than hobbits and that meant that while Kili looked like a young adult, he could, in reality, be nothing but a child. He was tempted to ask, but it was late and Kili's eyes were drooping as he leaned against his brother. It wasn't really all that important.

When Bilbo began to turn away, Kili's eyes flashed opened, again. "Where are you going?"

"There are things to be done. A fire to build up, for one."

Then Kili was back up on his feet. "Let me help! I'm good at that sort of thing." He looked around the dark room puzzled. "Wood?"

Bilbo wanted to laugh. He had a powerful urge to pet Kili on the head. "It's out back."

"Right!" Kili was all enthusiasm and energy, even half-asleep as he was. His smile was bright as sunlight and he walked with a purpose to his step as he tried to find his way to the backdoor. He got lost only once in Bilbo's home before he blushingly asked Bilbo to lead the way.

They used the candle to light a lantern before heading outside. In the backyard, Bilbo had Kili hold the lantern while he took wood from the woodpile. With his arms full, he turned and found Kili staring off to the side. "Is something wrong?" Bilbo asked.

Kili pointed to what he'd been staring at, Bilbo's little… creation. "Is that yours?"

He blushed right to the ends of his hair. "Ah… well. It's just…"

Kili's face was bright. He approached the four foot tall wooden creation and circled it slowly, studying it up and down with a great deal of attention. "It's not finished, is it?"

"Not yet."

"What will it be?" Kili tapped a finger to his lips. "A frog? I think you mean it to be a frog. Am I right?"

Bilbo stammered and flushed right to the soles of his feet. He'd never shown his work to anyone. How could he have thought Kili wouldn’t notice it in the dark? It seemed very odd to have anyone looking at it so closely. "A… troll, really. I've read many stories of them and I thought I might like to see one and as there aren't any in the Shire, I thought… maybe I could… well, I thought I could make one." He looked critically at what had taken him months to make. "It looks like a frog?"

"Only 'cause I didn't know what you'd meant it to be. Now that I look at it more closely, it does look like a troll. But a small one. Definitely a troll, though." He nodded his head up and down very quickly to reassure Bilbo. "That is certainly the most wonderful looking froggish-troll I've ever seen."

He could almost hear Kili laughing at him and he just knew that Kili would tell Fili and then Fili would laugh, too. "Just… just forget you saw it, won't you? Please? It's really not important." And it wasn't important.

"Not… important?" Kili echoed with a puzzled frown.

"No. Not a bit. Now, it's rather late, I think, and you did say that Mister Oakenshield would want you up early to get a move on, didn't you? Off to bed with you."

Kili handed the lantern to Bilbo and carried the large armful of split wood inside, setting it all down beside the stove where he stirred the fire back to life and fed it a few pieces of wood. After that, he curled up next to his brother, said goodnight, again, and fast asleep after muttering a sleepy promise that he loved Bilbo's frog troll.  
Bilbo had to smile. The boy was adorable.

With the fire slowly warming the room and his guests, Bilbo started back to his own room. The house was alive with the sounds of snoring and Bilbo decided that, strange as it seemed, he liked the noise.

In the hallway, the tramp of heavy feet on his wooden floors quickly drew his attention away from the peaceful snoring. Bilbo held his candle up in the darkness and in a moment those heavy footsteps brought Thorin, the leader of the dwarves, into the candlelight.

"Mister Oakenshield," Bilbo bobbed his head politely. "Can't you sleep?" With the notable exception of Dwalin, Throin was just about the biggest person Bilbo had ever met outside of humans. And Gandalf. Thorin was broad and stern and if Bilbo had been made of less stern stuff, he would have been frightened at seeing such intense eyes focused on him in the near darkness. But he wasn't frightened. Not at all. Not one little… well… maybe he was a little afraid. "I'm sorry the fire went out…"

"No. It's nothing to do with that. I'm standing watch so that the others may sleep easy."

"Watch?" Bilbo felt his pride sting. "You think you'll be attacked here? In my home?"

"It's habit." He paused a moment, then nodded his head at Bilbo. "No offense intended."

"Well, none taken, I suppose, but it's a habit you really don't need at the moment. I can't imagine any danger ever coming to Bag End."

"Be that as it may, I am more comfortable knowing that my people are together and looked after." He paused, seemed to struggle for his words, then said, "I find that I must apologize for Bofur upsetting you with his rather accurate description of the dragon. It was not our intention. That being said, you were not expecting business concerning a dragon, were you? Did Gandalf actually tell you to expect us or what our business was?"

"Not in so many words, no. Still, there's always room for guests. And it does get a bit lonesome up here at times." At Thorin's puzzled look, Bilbo flushed. He hadn't really meant to say that. So he moved on, quickly. "Umm… well. I really do hope you'll succeed in your quest. Even if I'm not the kind of person you want going, I do wish you the best."

Thorin's frown deepened. Bilbo hadn't thought that was possible. "Who said I didn't want you going along?"

"Well, I wouldn't be much use, would I? I'm not a fighter or an adventurer. I can't hunt and wouldn't know how to track an animal if my life depended on it. I'm not brave and I'm not even very smart." Saying it out loud hurt, but it was the truth and Bilbo had to say it. "I'm completely useless." Bilbo quickly nodded his head to Thorin, again. "Good night, then. Please, get some rest." Awkwardly, Bilbo scurried off for his own room.

Once he was alone in his bedroom, Bilbo leaned his back against the closed door and covered his face with his hands. It wasn't as if he'd wanted to confess his faults, but it just wouldn't do to have the dwarves hoping for his help when there was nothing he could do for them. It would be better for everyone if the dwarves went on their quest and Bilbo stayed at home… alone.

 

To be continued…


	5. He's Coming With Us

Chapter 5: He’s Coming With Us

 

After everyone had settled in for the night in Bilbo Baggins’ home, Dori lay quietly while everyone around him fell asleep and Thorin spoke softly with Gandalf. Dori couldn't sleep. He lay next to his brothers and stared up at the ceiling. While it was very late, the room was well lit thanks to the bright moon shining in through the windows and a candle lit for the sake of whoever's turn it was to stand watch. The dying fire also gave some light. After a time, Dori stood up and went to stand at the round window where he could look out and see the moon and stars shining down on the rolling farmland that Master Baggins' home overlooked. Thorin's earlier private meeting with Gandalf had been quick, but it hadn't done much to ease the worry that Dori could plainly see on Thorin's face when he’d left Gandalf and gone to take his turn patrolling the house.

Eventually, as Dori had known he would, Thorin's path brought him back to where everyone was sleeping. He went to stand next to Dori, and looked wonderfully majestic in the moonlight, before he spoke and softly asked Dori, "Will it suit, you think?" Thorin nodded at the dark world outside. "The town, I mean. Perhaps we should have arrived during the day to observe the people rather than at night to avoid causing a commotion. I would like to see more of the people before we leave the others here."

Dori reassured him, "If Master Baggins is a good example of his people, then I think this town will do well enough by our folks. It's a rich land and Gandalf says there is peace here like nothing we've ever known. Dis will be able to keep everyone here comfortably if the hobbits are open-minded about trade. If they aren't, well… Dis knows how to handle troublesome people."

"She can be very charming." Thorin turned to face Dori. "I have been thinking. If these people are as good-hearted as Gandalf believes and if the quest… fails, perhaps it might not be a bad idea to attempt settling here."

Dori wasn't surprised at Thorin's veiled question. The unspoken - Do you think this is a good idea? - was clear in Thorin's voice. Undoubtedly, he would be questioning Balin about the idea after Balin woke.

"You haven't spoken of settling our folks anywhere for a long time."

As he normally did when pondering important issues, Thorin paused and thought before he answered. "It has been a long time since we were treated fairly by anyone. Master Baggins is a nervous little person, but he is not unkind. His grandfather responded to my letter in a very civil manner. Perhaps there is hope here. Who knows? Perhaps this will be a good place for families." He shyly looked at Dori and Dori, still as fond of Thorin as he had been when his mother had first brought Dori to the royal chambers to introduce him to the newborn Thorin, smiled in return.

***  
Dori was very young and still quite small, so small that he had to stand on his toes with his hands on the side of the bed to look at tiny prince Thorin being held in his exhausted mother's arms.

"He's yours," Dori's mother whispered with a hand on Dori's back. "Yours to protect and serve for all of your life."

"Like you have Prince Thrain?" Dori asked, never taking his eyes off the baby.

Dori's mother shared a grin with little Thorin's mother. "Yes, darling, just like I have Prince Thrain. You'll have to learn your lessons very well because your Thorin will always need you." She kissed Dori on the top of his head. "You are his Dark Hands - his thief, his spy, his assassin." She smiled so proudly at him. "I know you'll be wonderful."  
***

Dori had learned his lessons and, upon his mother's judgment that he'd learned all he could from her, he had taken his place as Thorin's Dark Hands. Dori was responsible for doing whatever Thorin needed to get done, but shouldn't be seen to have a hand in. If there was information Thorin needed, Dori got it. If someone needed to be dead, Dori made them that way. With the fall of Erebor, he'd been busy with occasional theft and the sales of various poisons and antidotes he made, but there had been little call for assassinations. What threat was Thorin - a homeless prince - to anyone that they would feel the need to do anything that would require Dori to judge an assassination was required?

But, Dori had long ago decided, a quiet life with Thorin was still a very nice life. The mention of families made his mind wander along that trail. "Families? Perhaps you're right. Perhaps some marriages might even take place, here."

Thorin's eyes met Dori's and the most adorable blush spread across the bridge of Thorin's nose. He looked away, but reached out a hand took hold of Dori's fingers.

"Goodness. What a nice evening for a chat."

Thorin groaned and took his hand away from Dori's. 

Dori rolled his eyes and turned around to scowl at Nori who sat with his legs crossed and an amused look on his face. "I thought you were asleep," Dori grumbled.

"Terribly sorry to disappoint." Nori kept grinning. "Maybe Balin would like to have a late evening smoke. I can wake him easily enough…"

"No, don't wake him." Thorin held up a hand and shook his head. "I'm going."

"Oh, no. Don't go. I'm sure we'd all miss your company. Wouldn't we, brother? Now that you two have a chaperon to keep you company, it's all perfectly respectable."

Dori flushed and Thorin left the room. Dori went back to lay down on his bedding and, when Nori snickered, he snapped, "Oh, do shut up!" Still, it was hard to be angry with Nori when Dori was so very happy to see him laughing. It was far better than how Nori had been for so long after Frerin’s death.

What a terrible time!

***  
When the battle for Moria was over, and the dead were being collected, they'd found Prince Frerin’s body. Nori, filthy from blood and mud and sweat, fell upon his prince in horror. He wordlessly ran his hands over the cooling body and patted Frerin’s face, as if to wake him. He said nothing and no one, as they knew who and what he was, dared to disturb him.

“Dori?" Nori called out. "Dori?”

At once, Dori was on his knees next to Nori. “Come back,” he put his arms around Nori and held him. “It’s too late.”

“But… but he… he’s cold.”

Nori’s eyes filled with tears.

“He’s dead. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” Dori tightened his arms a bit, then gave a nod to the warriors standing nearby and, at that signal, they carefully lifted Frerin’s body and carried him away.

“No.” Nori shook his head and his body, trapped in Dori’s strong arms, tensed as he tried to follow his prince. “Don’t take him! Dori, let go! I have to go with Frerin!”

“He’ll be taken care of. You need to stay here for a bit.”

Nori began to scream and then he cried. It went on until Nori’s voice gave up and he was limp in Dori’s arms. His eyes, wide with near madness, didn’t seem to see Dori, though Dori held him and rocked him. He'd whispered what he'd hoped were comforting words, but Nori didn’t react to them. He clutched desperately at Dori’s arms and tears rolled down his face like twin rivers. Prince Frenin was dead. Nori’s prince… his reason for living… was gone.  
***

Shaking himself out of that awful memory, Dori felt his lingering annoyance with Nori fade away. Frerin’s death had been many years ago and there were still days when Dori thought Nori might be a danger to himself. That he could smile and laugh and tease gave Dori great hope that one day Nori might fully recover.

Dori began to drift to sleep. His stomach was comfortably full, he was warm, and it had been a very busy day. He was very nearly asleep when a soft noise caught his attention. He opened his eyes in time to see Kili creeping out of the room. Kili, who, Dori noted disapprovingly, should have been sound asleep. Kili hadn't woken Fili so Dori was doubtful that whatever Kili had planned had anything to do with mischief.

A tap on the arm made Dori look over and he found Nori looking at him. Of course if a noise had woken Dori it would have also woken Nori. Nori asked, "You want me to see what that pup's up to?"

"No. Get some sleep. He won't run away."

A short time later Kili reappeared with Master Baggins. They spoke quietly for a moment, but just when Dori thought Kili was ready to get back to sleep, the two of them left in search of firewood. Again, they returned and this time they built up the fire. Kili went back to his spot next to Fili to sleep and Master Baggins left the room. There was a sudden yelp from Master Baggins on the other side of the parlor door. Nori was already half-way to his feet with a dagger in hand.

"Freeze," Dori snapped. "Let's not jump in head first." He went to the door but hadn't even touched it before Thorin opened it. When he raised an eyebrow at finding Dori so close, Dori told him, "We heard something."

"That was our hobbit." Thorin looked back over his shoulder. "I think I frightened him."

"Oh?" The idea of Thorin being frightening wasn't entirely unthinkable, but that he would deliberately frighten someone like Master Baggins was laughable. "He's been nervous since we all started arriving. Dwalin said he was jittery from the start and Dwalin was the first one here. I doubt Master Baggins' troubles have anything to do with you; it sounds as if he’s had a trying day even before we got here."

"He practically ran away from me."

"And he fainted after a bit of teasing from Bofur. All that shows is that the lad has something pressing on his mind and a large gathering of people is a little much for him to handle right now. Can't think why he agreed to have us all here if he's got such troubles, though."

Thorin was quiet for a bit. "I am uncertain about having him with us. If he is this uneasy in his own home, then on the road…"

“Don’t be hasty,” Dori said. “I’ll go have a little chat with our Master Baggins and see what’s troubling him. It could be nothing at all and he’ll be perfectly fine on the journey. I would hate to disregard a wizard’s advice just because our hobbit is nervous around strangers.”

A moment later, Dori gently pushed open the door of Master Baggins’ bedroom and peered in.

Master Baggins was pacing the room. With his hands clasped behind his back and his furrowed forehead showed his deep unease. The room was large and spacious, and a candle lit at the bedside along with the moonlight shining in through the window gave plenty of light to see. It was a comfortable, lived-in sort of place. Everything seemed warm.  
"Bother dwarves!" Master Baggins muttered, sulkily. "All of them are too big and too loud.” He paused his pacing and rubbed his face with both hands. “And I was so rude to just walk off like that! He’s going to think I’m a horrible host! Drat and double drat! So bother dwarves and wizards and quests and d-d-dragons!" He paused and looked over at his writing desk. With a fearsome scowl, Master Baggins stomped to the desk and picked up a letter that had been laying there. He glared at it before crumpling it up and angrily throwing it against a wall where it bounced off and roll to a stop on the floor. "And bother uncles, too!" It was only then that he turned and noticed Dori standing in the doorway. He blushed and stiffened.

"Forgive me for disturbing you," Dori said. "I just came to see if you were feeling better."

"Oh. Ah. Yes, thank you. I'm fine. Just… just thinking." The Master Baggins looked utterly done in. There were dark circles under his eyes and his shoulders were slumped. He kept a wary eye on Dori and stepped backwards when Dori stepped into the room. "Is… is anything the matter?"

It was as plain as the noon-day sun to see that Master Baggins was still nervous, but the reason for it had Dori puzzled. The lad was in his own home on a quiet night and surrounded by gentile, peaceful dwarves. After all, it wasn't as if they were a rampaging horde of marauders. They were simple folks, for the most part, and altogether amiable. The whole group, to Dori's way of thinking, had been most polite and mannerly and had even taken care to dress well for this new introduction. The lads had even gone so far as to start a cheery song for their host's entertainment while they cleaned up the dinner table. Even Thorin, always so gruff and tactless, had given Bilbo the high praise of calling him a grocer. What could be a more important position than that of someone whose duty it was to guard and distribute food? So if it wasn't the company, then whatever could be frightening him?

Dori crossed his arms over his chest and smiled at Master Baggins. "Not a thing. Your home is very comfortable."

Master Baggins held his hands in front of him, tangling and untangling his fingers anxiously. "Thank you. I'm sorry you haven't got a bed!" It burst out of Master Baggins without warning and he flushed, again. "If I'd had more time to prepare I could have made it all better and the meal was awful, but there was just no time! And now everyone's sleeping on the floor and I wouldn't have it, but I never have guests here and I just wasn't prepared and I'm so sorry and- "

"Now hold on a minute, lad. Take a moment to breathe, will you?” Master Baggins’ distress was so upsetting that Dori couldn’t help but walk right into the bedroom and pat him on the shoulder. “There's not a soul here that would even think of disparaging your hospitality. My word on that. Now, won't you sit and settle yourself down? I'm well surprised to find you awake at all, let alone dwelling on such things. This must have been quite the night for you."

Master Baggins gave Dori a watery, weak smile, but he did sit on the edge of his bed. "I'm a worrier. Sorry."

"Well, there's no need for that now. Your hospitality has been exceptional; you've been kinder to us than most folks."

Master Baggins looked down at his lap. "Kili said something similar. He mentioned going without food at times." Then Master Baggins looked up and bit his lip. "I wish I could have helped you in those times."

"I'm sure you would have if we'd come here in our travels. But I actually wanted to ask you - I was woken by you and Kili feeding the fire and I believe I heard you and Thorin talking. He said you rushed away."

Master Baggins put his hands over his face, groaning. "Oh, how embarrassing. I'll apologize when I see him next. Such manners!"

"Don't be hard on yourself. I'm sure Thorin isn't cross. I only ask because I wanted to know if anything was the matter. I wouldn’t like to think you were frightened of any of us."

When Master Baggins didn’t raise his face from his hands at once Dori couldn’t help but think that the hobbit looked rather sweet with his curly hair falling over the tips of his fingers. He tried to curb those thoughts as, no matter how much Master Baggins' youthful appearance made Dori want to tuck him into bed and give him a good-night kiss, Master Baggins wasn't a child. Still, he couldn't resist sitting next to Master Baggins on the bed. "Is our visit so troublesome? We can leave, if it is."

Master Baggins blinked and smiled after he finally looked up at Dori. It was an earnest, if tired, smile. It was the first Dori had seen from him since they'd arrived. "No. I’d just had an unpleasant letter from a relative and then you all arrived. It's nothing, really, and I would never ask my guests to leave in the middle of the night. I'm just not… used to so many people about." Then he looked down at his lap. "And, honestly, I'm not the person you're looking for. I'm not a burglar. I don't know why Gandalf thinks I could help you."

Dori gave a smile to Master Baggins. "I wish I could enlighten you, but Gandalf doesn't often share his reasons for what he does. It's your choice, though. You don't HAVE to sign the contract and there is no shame for you if you don't. It is a dangerous mission we've undertaken, after all. The journey itself isn't likely to be too troublesome, but at the end of it all… there lies the wyrm."

Master Baggins shuddered. "I can't even imagine it. Did you see it?"

"Oh, yes. So long ago… it was a calm day. The sun was warm and I was walking with my mother in the market when this terrible wind roared though. Then Smaug flew down upon us. Be thankful that you have no dragons here and no bait to attract them."

Leaning his elbows on his knees and slumping forward just a little, Master Baggins said, "It all sounds like something out of a book; a fairy-tale that should have a happy ending."

"Fairy-tales don't end like that day did. Still, the story isn't over, yet. We may have a happy ending, after all. It's my belief that we must forge our own futures, that what becomes of us is due to our own choices. So, my prince has made the choice to retake his mountain and I, and all those with me, have made the choice to support him. We choose our own ending."

"To choose your own ending…" Master Baggins grinned. "What a lovely thought. I find myself wishing to go on a grand adventure; I've never gone further than a few miles from Bag End." He gave a little laugh. "But it's late and I'm tired, so I think I must not be thinking straight."

"And maybe you're thinking perfectly straight. Why not come with us?"

"I can't just run off. My grandfather would be appalled." He was nearly asleep sitting up. Master Baggins yawned and scratched at the back of his head. "I also have a hard time believing that your friends would be so welcoming as you are. Kili was cheerful enough and his brother seemed pleasant. But Dwalin was cross even when he was eating – he looked so angry I thought he might strike me. That one with the hat, he was making jokes about me.” Master Baggins’ face fell, sadly. “I don’t like being laughed at. And Mister Oakenshield doesn't seem a bit friendly. No. I don't think any of them would want me along."

Dori snorted. "Dwalin wasn't angry about anything. I heard him telling his brother that you already had food laid out when he arrived and that he was so grateful for it. He said you were pleasantly quiet and patient while he rested himself – a perfect host. The one with the hat – Bofur – he teases everyone, especially the ones he likes. And Thorin has a lot on his mind; he doesn't mean to come off as grumpy. As for your grandfather – well. We've already had word from him. He doesn't seem to mind if you leave. He said it was your decision."

Master Baggins' eyes shot open. He was, at once, fully awake. He stared at Dori.

"Whatever is the matter, Master Baggins?"

"He doesn't mind if I just… leave? Oh.” He went quiet for a moment. “He really didn’t care? He didn’t say I should talk to him first or something?”

“No.”

“Oh." Master Baggins frowned at his lap, then gave an obviously forced smile. "Forgive me. It really has been a very trying day. I shouldn't keep you up chit-chatting. It's been pleasant, though. Makes me feel like someone appreciates me for more than just my pantry." He paused. "Forgive me. That was rude. I shouldn't have said it. And please, call me Bilbo."

"Bilbo, then. And there's nothing to forgive. We DO appreciate a good meal and your pantry was very impressive. We're not as bad as you seem to think. They're all good lads out there. Some might be a bit rough around the edges, but good hearts, each and every one of them."

Bilbo gave him an odd, considering look with his eyes that were half-closed. "I didn't think any of you were bad. Not really. But I don’t socialize well so people don’t visit me. I’m usually alone. Your visit is actually sort of nice, once I got over the surprise. I heard everyone singing, earlier. You're all very good."

"Thank you." Dori puffed up a bit with pride. "My younger brother, Nori, has always had a splendid voice." And then, seeing how Biblo started to slouch from his tiredness, again, Dori started to talk. He talked about Nori's singing talent and how it had won him many admirers and he talked about Ori's near obsessive love of books and he talked about his mother's funny little stories and how his father had been such a well-regarded tailor.

By the time Dori had gone through a small fraction of the stories he had, Bilbo had, possibly without realizing it, laid his head on his pillow and closed his eyes. He sleepily muttered, "Your family sounds lovely."

Dori smiled at the sleepy hobbit and just barely held himself back from patting Bilbo on the head. "Well, I ought to be getting myself to sleep. I wouldn't want to set a bad example for the young ones."

Bilbo silently shook his head in such a way that Dori knew he was only barely awake. Dori did chuckle, then, and stood up. He couldn't resist. Dori covered Bilbo with a blanket and patted his head. He wondered at himself. He’d always had a bit of a parental attitude when it came to the youngsters and he felt a powerful urge to fix whatever was troubling Bilbo. It was silly. Bilbo was NOT a child and to treat him as such would be an insult, surely. He HAD to be an adult because Bilbo's grandfather couldn't be so uncaring as to allow a child to go on such a dangerous quest.

"Sleep well, Bilbo."

"Don't go."

"What?"

“Don’t wanna be alone.” Then Bilbo gave a soft snore and Dori knew Bilbo was sound asleep.

Dori went to leave the room, but as he did his eyes fell on the paper Bilbo had crumpled up and thrown. Without hesitation he picked up the paper and smoothed it out to read it. When he finished reading, his eyes drifted to Bilbo, still sleeping with his face turned towards the moonlight falling in through the room's one window. He crumpled the letter back up and dropped it where he'd found it.

Thorin was waiting in the hall when Dori left Bilbo's room.

"Well?" Thorin asked. "Is Master Baggins quite alright?"

"I think he will be fine. Apparently, he’s has some family troubles this morning and our arrival was a bit too much on top of that. I really don’t think you frightened him at all. And he will be coming with us on our journey."

Thorin shook his head. "I think you are mistaken. He doesn't seem too keen on having us as houseguests; I hardly think he will want to associate with us for such an extended journey. Still, we will get someone else. I'm nearly certain we can find a human willing to risk his life for treasure."

"No need. Bilbo will be joining us. I have a good feeling about this one." He gave a confidant nod. “Yes, he’ll be just fine.”

"We shall see. Now I think you had best get back to Nori before he accuses me of trying to sully you… again."

Dori patted Thorin's cheek. "He's a dear brother and protective. I expect I will do the same when someone comes courting for him and, honestly, I can't wait to see what you do when Fili and Kili fall in love. And your sister's courtship? Do you remember how you handled that?"

"Yes. I handled it badly. Very badly."

"That’s right and she finds it hilarious now that someone’s doing it to you."

Together, they started down the hall towards the room everyone was sleeping in. In a confidential manner, Thorin admitted to Dori, “I wouldn’t blame Master Baggins for refusing to join us. I have the most horrible feeling that before this is over, someone is going to die.” Thorin looked at Dori with a determined frown. "This is madness. I can see no way that we can possibly defeat a dragon, even if the wizard tells us that it is possible. I'm marching us all to our doom."

Dori laughed. “Aren’t you ray of sunshine tonight? You think too little of yourself. My friend, we have been wanderers since the dragon came. We have faced dangers every day. The young ones have never known what it is to truly feel safe, not like we did in Erebor. How often have we all gone without eating so that the children might have at least a little something in their bellies? How many times have we been chased away from towns or villages simply because we were strangers? And neither of us needs to be reminded of how sickness follows us. We've all discussed this and we all agreed." When Thorin said nothing, Dori put a hand on his arm. "We will return to Erebor. It's a chance we all want and, if we ever want Fili, Kili, and Ori to have a real home where they can feel safe, it's a chance we MUST take. You’re not wrong to want this."

"Balin said our people do well in the Blue Mountains."

Dori rolled his eyes. "And I'm very pleased for them. It was so kind that everyone NOT of Durin's line was allowed to stay in the Blue Mountains. Oh, I understand the reason; with so many refugees, having anyone with royal blood other than their own line would make everyone constantly worry that you or anyone else with a claim to Durin's bloodline would stage a coup and take the throne. I understand that. But right now I am more concerned with the future of the children who are left to wander and beg."

"So am I. And why shouldn't we have a home? Still, I worry."

"That's what you get for being such a caring, compassionate person."

Thorin narrowed his eyes and paused for a long while. "If I didn't know you so well, I would think you were mocking me."

"Good thing you know me so well. I'd say it's my turn on watch now, so you get some sleep. As they say: the road goes ever, ever on and tomorrow we'll be going along with it."

Thorin joined his nephews and lay down next to Kili. In moments, he was fast asleep.

While everyone slumbered and filled the night with their snoring, Dori stood his watch in a comfy chair with a warm fire – it was a lovely way to stand watch. Such peace. But the quiet allowed his mind to wander back to the letter, the crumpled paper on the floor, he'd seen earlier in Master Baggins' bedroom and he remembered what had been written.

Dear Bilbo,  
This matter must be settled. I honestly do not wish you any pain or hardship, but your mother's last wishes must be known once and for all to stop the gossip. I know you don't want to hear this, but everyone is talking. Even if they weren't, your mother deserves the respect of having her wishes regarding Bag End be known. As you will not discuss the possibility of a search of Bag End, I have set the matter before the proper authorities. You should expect to receive a notice to appear in court shortly.  
All my best wishes,  
Uncle V.

Dori brought his mind back to the present. He really didn't understand what needed to be searched for or why Bilbo would be set against whatever his mother's last wishes were or why such a matter should be brought before a court. It was not his business. Not his business at all. But that didn't stop his curiosity or his concern for Bilbo.

Dawn broke before everyone woke. They'd all had a good few hours sleep. So when the sun finally made its way into the room, Dori stood up and stretched. He nudged Thorin in the ribs with his toe and waited until Thorin's eyes slid open. "Time to get up, my prince. The quest is before us."

Thorin groaned and rolled over.

"On your feet before I tell Balin you need a refresher course in Elvish."

"I could help with that."

Dori turned at the voice and Thorin sat up.

Bilbo stood in the doorway of the room with a bag held tightly in his hands and wearing a worn, brown coat. "With Elvish, I mean. I could help you practice. I'm pretty good at writing and speaking." He glanced at Thorin, but looked down at his feet almost at once. "If you want. Or not. I'm not a teacher so… anyway. Yes. Anyway, I'm ready to go." He gave the little bag in his arms a thump with his hand. "I just have to sign the contract."

Thorin blinked and raked a hand through his hair. "Ready? Contract?"

If a hobbit could look anymore hurt, Dori would have eaten his boots.

"If you've changed your mind and don't want me…"

Dori gave Throin a glare, but turned a smile to Bilbo. "Not at all! Don't you mind the royal lump; he's still half-asleep and his brain isn't working, yet. I'm so glad you decided to come with us, Bilbo. The contract is still in your dining room on the table and there is plenty of time to sign it before everyone is ready to leave. Do you have what you need for the journey?"

"Oh, yes." Bilbo said, eagerly, even as he trotted off to sign the contract with Dori at his heels. He signed it with a flourish, though he didn't bother to finish reading it from beyond the point when he'd swooned the evening before.

Dori made a mental note to talk to Balin, who was so well-versed in law, about having a quiet word with Bilbo about the dangers of not reading what one signs. Not that Balin would have put anything tricky in any contract that he wrote, but there were less than honest people in the world.

"I've got a pocketknife," Bilbo said, brightly. "And a change of clothes and some food. If we can wait until tomorrow to leave, then I can keep my promise and buy more food for everyone. I have some money and a comb and some paper and ink. And- "

Thorin was suddenly there and snagged the bag from Bilbo. "We won't be waiting; we must set off at once. We will stop for supplies along the way if they are needed. Let me see what you've packed." He went to the table in the dining room and emptied the bag out. He then started to rifle through the items. He would set some items in one pile and some in another - clearly deciding what would be left behind and what would be allowed to be repacked.

Dori smiled. Thorin was so considerate. He'd done the same thing for Fili and Kili when they'd packed bags for the journey. Then he noticed Master Baggins' frown. "Don't be upset," Dori patted him on the back. "You said that you've never traveled more than a few miles. It's only natural that you wouldn't know what to bring." He glanced at the pile Thorin had discarded. "Like spare brass buttons. I don't think you'll want the extra weight of even a few buttons after a short time."

"But… what if my buttons fall off? I can't go around with missing buttons. I just can't. Please, let me keep my buttons. And they're not brass – they're gold. I bought them from a peddler last summer."

Thorin frowned, then turned back to what he was doing.

Dori gently said, "I'm sorry, Bilbo, but those are brass buttons." The difference between brass and gold seemed clear as day to him, but he wondered at Bilbo's lack of education if he was tricked so easily. "They're lovely, but not gold."

Bilbo turned red as a ruby. "Oh. Really? Well… yes, then." He shoved his hands in his pockets and stepped away from Dori. "Will I have time to clean up the house? I hate to leave it in a state."

"There's time," Thorin grumbled, handing a much lighter bag back to Bilbo. "Be quick, though. I want an early start. Everyone will need to bid their family's farewell. And you will need to give your own farewells."

Bilbo shook his head. "No. There's no need to bother with all that."

"And what about your grandfather? Gandalf told us about him and we sent along a message about our upcoming trip." Thorin crossed his arms over his chest.

"Yes, Mister Dori told me last night that you'd written to him. Grandfather knows where I'm going so there's no point in going all that way to bother him. He's sure to be busy, anyhow. He's always busy." Bilbo turned from them and began to walk away before he abruptly spun around and looked at them with wide eyes. "Don't leave without me!"

Thorin seemed at a loss for words and looked at Dori, confused. Finally, he said in that gruff voice that always came out when he was uncertain, "We hardly came all this way to leave you behind. But be fast. We have people waiting for us and will not keep them waiting longer than necessary."

Bilbo nodded, hurriedly. "I can be fast. I know where everything belongs."

"And I'll help."

Dori started at the arm that suddenly slung over his shoulders and found himself staring at Bofur's cheery grin. He shrugged off the arm. "Bofur! How many times must I tell you – don’t do that! One of these days, I'll make a mistake and gut you!”

Bofur chuckled. "You'd never hurt me; and you don't make mistakes like that." He slipped by Dori and Thorin and winked at Bilbo. "Like I said – I'll help with the clean up. Jobs are always more fun with a friend."

"Friend?" Bilbo said. "We're friends?"

"Of course. Now, where shall we start?"

Bilbo fidgeted and shifted from foot-to-foot. "Thank you. That's very kind, but, really, I'm a bit particular where things go and it'll be a lot of trouble for you, I'm sure."

"No trouble at all. You just tell me where you want things and I'll get it done."

That was that. When Bofur had his mind set on something, he usually persisted until he got what he wanted. So he and Bilbo set to work tidying the house. They worked together while Thorin and Dori woke the others and prepared the ponies to leave. By the time Bilbo declared that all was right with the house the dwarves were ready to leave. The sun was well up. Bilbo seemed agitated and fretted over this and that. He took time to use a little broom to sweep his front step when they'd all left the house and went back inside twice just to be sure he hadn't forgotten anything.

As he got onto his pony, Dori commented, "This would be a very good time for you to have a lock on your door, you know. Going away for such a long time is an open invitation for some people."

Bilbo eyed the pony he'd been given, distrustfully, and absently said, "What do you mean?"

"People might go in your home while you’re gone."

Bilbo looked confused. "Why would someone go in my home if I'm not there?"

"To take something of yours or to cause some other trouble."

It made Bilbo laugh. "No one would do that!" He exclaimed. "That would be rude."

Nori was suddenly at Dori's side and whispered, "He's going to get in trouble once we get out of this happy hollow he's been sheltered in."

Dori nodded. Someone was going to have to keep an eye on Bilbo.

 

To be continued…


	6. Dark Hands

Chapter 6: Dark Hands

 

As they made their way out of Hobbiton, Thorin couldn't help but keep an eye on their surroundings. It was unnerving. The whole of Hobbiton seemed deserted. The morning they left with Master Baggins, they rode along well-worn roads, by homes, and through vast fields of crops, but all that time they didn't see a single hobbit other than the one riding with them. He hadn’t thought anything of the quiet town when he’d arrived, but that had been late at night when most people would be asleep. As they left Hobbiton, though, the sun had risen hours ago and surely there should have been people starting their days. It was as if all the hobbits had suddenly vanished. His unease grew the longer they rode and still didn’t see any other hobbits.

“Oh, they just don’t like strangers,” Master Baggins said when someone finally asked him. “There are people around.” He turned his head to look around and gave a casual wave. “They’re all over the place. They’ll go about their day when we’ve passed by.”

Eventually, they left the road to retrace their path back to where they'd left the caravan with their families who wouldn't be joining the quest.

The travel was peaceful and quiet.

Thorin, as was habit, kept looking over his shoulder to check on his people. Gandalf had, not surprisingly, disappeared. His sister-sons were happy and chattering with Ori and Bofur. Near the center of the group, Master Baggins rode. He hadn't spoken much since Fili and Kili had hoisted him up into the saddle of his pony. Still, he was on his pony and hadn't fallen off. Thorin deemed that an excellent start as Master Baggins had earlier confessed that he'd never ridden before. Thorin considered giving the hobbit praise, but didn't want to draw attention to him as he seemed nervous enough as he clutched at his pony's reins and frowned in concentration and Thorin didn’t want to risk making him more uncomfortable by making him the center of attention.

It didn't escape Thorin's attention that Nori rode close at Master Baggins' side. He looked over and saw that Dori, too, had noticed and watched his brother with a calculating look. Dori met Thorin's eyes and gave a minute nod of his head. They would talk later. Thorin also didn’t miss the Bilbo seemed to keep stealing glances at Bombur, for some reason.

"You look like you've been chewing a lemon." Balin sounded like he might laugh. "I thought you'd be happy to finally be on our way."

Thorin glanced behind them, again, and quietly admitted, "I have a terrible urge to tell our hobbit to sit up straight and put on a warmer jacket."

Balin did laugh at that. "Yes, he does rather have a childish quality to him. Still, try not to offend him before our first day of travel is done."

"Do I offend people?" Thorin whispered, looking at Balin, worried.

"Of course not," Balin told him, with that always gentle smile of his. "Some people just don't appreciate your particular brand of blunt honesty."

Which meant, Thorin knew, that he did, in fact, offend people and Balin was just being kind. Thorin sat up a little straighter, determined to show their new companion what a good leader he could be. He still cringed when he thought of how Master Baggins had seemed so frightened of him back in Bag End. He would prove to Master Baggins that Thorin Oakenshield was not an offensive or frightening dwarf, but a sensible, trustworthy…

Another glance behind showed that Master Baggins had drifted behind the others a good way as he stared in fascination at a field of sunflowers. Thorin felt his eye twitch and he bellowed, "Keep up, Master Baggins! I won't have any lazy riders!"

Master Baggins jumped, startled so badly that he nearly fell off his pony, and whipped his head around to stare at Thorin with wide, frightened eyes. His whole face burned red with embarrassment.

Thorin looked away from Master Baggins. 'Damn.' So much for proving he was trustworthy. At his side, Balin chuckled and Thorin tried to ignore him.

Later, when they finally arrived at the encampment, Thorin did another head count as everyone rushed over to meet their loved ones. Again, he was very relieved to find everyone present and accounted for. He put an arm around his sister's shoulders and pulled her over to where Nori was helping Bilbo off his pony.

"My dear sister, may I present our company's burglar, Master Bilbo Baggins. Master Baggins, my sister and the mother of my nephews, Princess Dis."

It was a ridiculously endearing sight to see little Master Baggins bow so politely to Dis. "A great pleasure, Miss Oakenshield."

Dis' smile grew. She looked at Thorin. "Burglar? You can’t make him your burglar! Good gracious, but he's adorable!" She leaned over a little to look a surprised Bilbo in the eyes. "You can call me Dis, dear. And would you be a little elfling?" She looked to be near moments from pinching his cheek.

With a nudge to Dis’ arm, Thorin hissed as quietly as he could, “He’s an adult!”

“Eh!?”

Master Baggins, who clearly hadn’t heard Thorin’s whisper to Dis, flushed and gave a weak smile. "Ah…no. Sorry, but no. I'm a hobbit. I've never even seen an elf." Then his smiled brightened. "May I ask whom your folks are boarding with, Ms. Dis? I haven't heard anything about my neighbors renting out rooms and that sort of things usually causes a bit of a stir in Hobbiton."

She gestured to the clearing around them. "This is our home for the next long while. I'm afraid renting rooms is a bit out of the question, we just don't have the money. Perhaps if we manage to sell anything at your town’s market we may rent some rooms later."

Master Baggins gaped at Dis. "You're planning to stay out here? Camping?" His eyes fell on the small group of children playing under the watchful eye of one of the mothers. "And with little ones?" He shook his head furiously and shook his finger at her. "No. That just won't do at all. I have a perfectly good home and there aren't all that many of you." He paused, narrowed his eyes and took a deep breath, as if steeling himself to do something difficult or painful. "You can use my home until I come back. No point in letting it just sit there and get dusty." He gave a satisfied smile. "Yes. That's an excellent idea. You go into Hobbiton and ask around for Hamfast Gamgee and he'll show you the way to my home - Bag End. In fact, after you've moved in and get comfortable, ask him to show you around and introduce you about. He's very friendly and knows everyone."

Everyone was utterly silent. They stared at Bilbo, astonished. Thorin was stunned to hear of such generosity. Never had anyone offered them a home – not like this. Master Baggins wouldn't be there to guard his belongings against them. If they decided to rob him blind, he wouldn't be aware of it until it was too late. Of course they wouldn't rob Master Baggins, but someone out there might take advantage of his trust.

Bilbo fidgeted under the attention. "If you want to, that is. Don't have to, of course. But… I thought… it's a very nice home. Quite large enough for all of you, I think."

Dis nodded solemnly. "You do us great honor. I will accept your offer with gratitude. I assure you that you will return to find your home in excellent condition."

Dori went to Thorin and they sat together near the fire. They watched as Master Baggins tried to reassure Dis that it really wasn't anything that any other hobbit wouldn't do. And as they watched and listened, Thorin, again, noticed Nori standing quite near to Master Baggins. He watched Master Baggins with a puzzled, confused expression. Thorin whispered to Dori, "Has your brother set his cap at my burglar?"

"I… I don't believe so. Nori has rather specific preferences and Bilbo doesn't match. No, I believe this is something else entirely. Give me some time to think and I'll let you know, later."

It was decided (meaning that Dis decided, of course) that they would spend the night together and, in the morning, those who would journey to face the dragon would leave. Everyone was quite pleased at the decision and, at once, everyone broke away to spend some precious few moments with their families. Thorin had begun to walk back to his wagon with Dis and the boys when he looked over his shoulder and saw Master Baggins standing in the center of the camp, looking rather lost. He glanced at his sister and gestured to Master Baggins before whispering, "Do you mind?"

"Certainly not. Bring him along."

He strode across to Master Baggins and bowed his head politely. "You may join my family for the evening, Master Baggins."

It was the oddest expression that bloomed on Master Baggins' face, then. He looked shocked, then as if he might cry. He gave a strained smile. "Yes, thank you very much. Please call me Bilbo."

Thorin wondered if he'd done wrong this time. Bilbo certainly seemed upset, but he had good manners and tried to hide his discomfort.

He was a quiet guest in the wagon and sat on one of the bunks while Fili and Kili eagerly regaled their mother with the story of their adventure in the Shire. Thorin found himself frowning when they got to the part about the volcanoes. He certainly didn't remember them. He also didn't remember running from hordes of rampaging hobbits or the weasel stew. But Bilbo as grinning at the wild tales and if he didn't mind, Thorin would keep quiet. From Dis' raised eyebrow, she certainly didn't believe her sons’ lies.

All the while, Bilbo kept stealing glances at Dis from the corners of his eyes. He was painfully obvious, even to Thorin who knew he was far from being subtle. At long last, Dis smirked at Bilbo and asked,

"Is my stunning beauty so disarming that you must stare?"

“Oh, no!” Bilbo blushed. "I mean yes! You’re very pretty, I’m sure, but… Oh, I am sorry. I didn't mean to stare. I must say that I've never seen a lady with a beard."

Dis chuckled. "You are forgiven. It is rather handsome, isn't it?" She ran a hand over her dark whiskers. "Fili has his father's coloring, but Kili will be more like me." She looked at her sons, fondly. "If my dear brother would allow his beard to properly grow, then you would see something fine. I remember being quite young and seeing him wear his beard in braids with bright gems woven in."

With a roll of his eyes, Thorin said, "The gems have been sold and I find I happen to prefer a short - "

The door flew of the caravan flew open and Dori's broad self filled the doorway. With a stony expression, he told Thorin, "We have a guest."

Thorin stood and raised an eyebrow, waiting.

"It's a ranger."

"Right, then." Of course it was a ranger. Nothing could ever go easily, could it? Thorin stood and rolled his shoulders. He was exhausted. He looked at Dis. "You aren't going to stay here where it's safe, are you?"

"Not a chance, but you can try ordering me to if it'll make you feel better." She was already on her feet and tugging her jacket straighter.

Thorin then looked at Kili and knew that there was no possibility at all of him staying behind if Fili was to go out and meet with the stranger with Thorin, which, as Fili was in training as Thorin's heir, he really had to start doing when these sort of issues popped up.

"You don't have to be scared."

Everyone turned to look at Bilbo.

He looked down at his lap. "It's just… the rangers are nice. I've met a few of them and they're very kind. They keep the whole Shire safe from dangerous people."

Thorin looked at those innocent eyes and felt his stomach turn. Safe. They kept the hobbits safe from dangerous people. He wondered if Bilbo knew that rangers undoubtedly considered homeless dwarves to be dangerous people. He was very conscious of the sword at his side, at the bow Kili held, and at the knowledge that Fili had who-knows-how-many weapons secreted on his person…yes, this was going to be an unpleasant meeting.

Thorin's thoughts must have shown on his face as Bilbo urgently assured him, "No, really. They are a good people. Why, they've been patrolling the borders for years. They won't hurt anyone here."

Kili gave a laugh that was disturbingly bitter for his normally sweet self. "And I'm sure he's going to think a group of disreputable dwarves like ourselves are nothing but innocent bunnies, right? Bilbo, they'll think we're the dangerous people you hobbits need to be protected from."

The frown Bilbo gave him was impressive. "The only thing dangerous about you lot is that you might trample someone's flower garden if you aren't paying attention. Come on. I'll show you." He slipped by Thorin and Dori and hopped out of the wagon, down to the ground. The other dwarves had emerged from their wagons and watched the invader cautiously. Without any fear at all, Bilbo strode over to the tall ranger, who loomed over the dwarves, and held out a hand to him. "Good afternoon, sir. I am Mister Bilbo Baggins of Bag End and… hey!"

The ranger, upon setting his sights on Bilbo, had gone wide-eyed and immediately scooped Bilbo up in his arms the moment Bilbo came within arm's reach. He drew his long sword and took up a stand against the dwarves.

Bilbo squawked and flailed his arms and legs. The dwarves were ready to attack, and Nori, who looked ready to murder, was being held back only by Dori's iron-like grip on his arm.

"Put me down!" Bilbo demanded. "What sort of behavior is this? I took your folks as respectable!"

"Are you hurt?"

Bilbo froze and looked at the man, apparently stunned. "Hurt? Only my pride." He huffed. "Being toted around like a sack of flour! Of all the indignities. Now put me down!" He swung his leg and kicked the ranger in the groin.

The ranger grunted, but kept Bilbo in his arms.

Thorin… didn't like that. He didn't like seeing little Bilbo being held by some stranger. His hand was on his sword and his people around him were tensed, ready to fight the moment he said the word, but he didn't like how close Bilbo was to the target. Any attack might get their little burglar injured. So Thorin forced his hand away from his sword. "If you have an issue with my people, that is for you and I to deal with. Put my hobbit down." And really, it was just plain rude to go picking people up.

Both the ranger and Bilbo seemed surprised at Thorin's words, but the ranger did, slowly, set Bilbo back down on his feet. He nodded his head at Bilbo. "I meant you no harm, master hobbit, but dwarves do not have good reputations and I am surprised to find one of you good people in the midst of them. My first thought was that you were here against your will."

"Well," Bilbo blustered. "I'm terribly sorry for the surprise, but here I am and here they are and we were having a lovely time until some big person came along and tried to kidnap me." Bilbo yelped softly when Nori, who'd crept close, snagged Bilbo's hand and yanked him back to the safety of his family. Dori subtly moved himself to stand in front of his brothers and Bilbo, crossing his arms over his barrel-like chest.

"I am leader of this party," Thorin announced and was pleased to see the ranger's attention diverted from Bilbo. Really, he thought, why did men have to have such dreadful manners? "Now, other than frightening the children and molesting my hobbit, what is your business?"

"I'm on patrol and noticed your party. Forgive my impertinence," he nodded at Bilbo who still looked like he had a few feathers ruffled. "But we are duty bound to defend the Shire and its inhabitants."

"Well, I don't need any defending," Bilbo burst out as he tried to march out from behind Dori to confront his attacker with righteous indignation. He shook his tiny fist at the ranger even as Nori and Ori grabbed him by the coat tails and pulled him back with them where he belonged. Even then, Bilbo didn't take his angry eyes from the ranger. "I take perfectly good care of myself. You rangers should know that hobbits aren't completely helpless; my mother met and traveled with many of you."

The ranger looked thoughtful, then he smiled. "Would your mother's name be Belladonna?"

That gave Bilbo pause. "Yes. Yes, that's her."

The ranger smiled brightly. "I traveled with your mother for a time and found her to be a good and bright lady with the heart of a lion." Then he frowned. "I did not know she had a son. You would have been very young while she was traveling. Just a babe, really."

Bilbo went very still for a moment. "She never mentioned me? Not once?" Then he gave himself a little shake and forced a smile. "I'm pleased you think well of my mother. She spoke kindly of rangers. Well, I might as well inform you that most of these dwarves will be staying for a time."

"I don't think…"

"They will be staying in my home, at Bag End, until I return. I am going traveling as my mother did and I see no reason for my home to stand empty gathering dust and getting," he gave a little shudder. "Dirty. Good Lady Dis," he gestured to Thorin's sister. "Has given me her word that she will look after my home with the help of her family. Very civil of her, very kind. I much appreciate it. So," Bilbo lifted his chin a little. "You had best get used to dwarves being around the Shire as they are now my house guests."

"You trust them?" His eyes went to Dori and focused with clear distain on Dori's hair – the elaborate braids that kept his hair close to his head and out of the way. Of course a ranger would know only a very few dwarves ever wore such a style. "Do you even trust a king's Dirty Hands?"

Bilbo looked confused. He followed the ranger's gaze to Dori then looked back at the ranger. "What?"

Again, the ranger looked around at the assembled dwarves. The mothers had taken their children to shelter in the wagons, but everyone else stood carefully by, watching and waiting. Weapons were at the ready. It wouldn't be the first time they were chased off from a place in an effort to protect the locals.

"Well, it's your business, I suppose. I will advise you not to trust a person who would do such vile things as a Dirty Hands will do. May I ask why you're traveling?"

Thorin felt a jolt of fear run up his spine. He did NOT want anyone knowing about their journey. They couldn't risk being stopped or attacked when someone else got the idea that they would like the treasure of Erebor for themselves and the only thing in the way of their fortune was a handful of dwarves. He opened his mouth to stop Bilbo from naively answering, but Bilbo said,

"I'm having some family problems and there are decisions that need to be made. These folks are being kind enough to allow me travel with them so I can think and decide what to do concerning my family. It's just a little holiday. The only chance I'm ever likely to have to see the world outside the boundaries of the Shire."

It was an excellent lie, Thorin thought. Very clever. He wouldn't have thought up something so quickly on the spot.

"What family problems?"

Bilbo glared. "That's an impertinent question coming from a complete stranger." And he said nothing more.

The ranger smiled, as if Bilbo's bad temper was somehow cute. "Fine. I apologize. And I apologize for interfering, if you think it was not my business. However, a band of dwarves invading the Shire…"

"Invading?!" Bilbo's voice rose to an impressively shrill screech. "My guests are NOT invaders! How dare you suggest something so… so… so disrespectable? Why, I'll have words with your captain for this!"

"I am only doing my duty. Perhaps a word with the Thain would be wise before inviting strangers into the Shire."

Bilbo's eyes bulged. "I do not need permission to invite people into my own home. I met them last night and we shared a lovely dinner together. They told fine stories and cheered up my evening immensely." He crossed his arms. "If that sort of thing doesn't make one a trusted friend, I just don't know what does."

Thorin watched, stunned as the little hobbit stared down the ranger.

Eventually, the ranger nodded. "As you will, young sir. I will inform the Thain and my captain of your decision just to be sure there are no further misunderstandings."

Bilbo's anger evaporated in an instant. He smiled and held out a hand which the ranger shook gently. "Thank you very much," Bilbo said. "Most kind. Most kind. You have a good evening and safe travels."

The ranger nodded and, though he gave the dwarves another wary look, he slipped away into the night without another word.

With a great rush, Kili and Fili were at Bilbo's side at once. "That was so brave!" They exclaimed in unison. Kili took Bilbo by the arms and gave him a gentle shake with a bright smile on his face. "You just took the stuffing out of a ranger. A ranger! I've never seen anyone do that!"

"What?" Bilbo gave him a puzzled look. "He was only a ranger. They're all over the place out here, walking around the forest like a bunch of overgrown deer." Then he flinched and cast a shy look at Thorin. "I… I'm sorry. I don't know what got into that one. All the other rangers I've ever met have been perfectly civil. Honestly."

Balin patted Bilbo on the back and assured him that as the ranger had probably momentarily forgotten his manners and that it was nothing at all to worry about. But even as he said it, Balin looked at Thorin, knowingly. Neither had missed that the ranger had certain views about the nature of dwarves.

With the excitement over, everyone began to go to their beds. Bilbo looked at Balin and quietly asked, "What did the ranger mean? When he said that Dori was the king's Dirty Hands?"

Thorin froze in mid-step and slowly, cautiously, shifted his eyes to Dori. The insult was filthy one and one that had him wanting to chase down the offending ranger. But Dori, always so gentle and kind, shook his head at Bilbo's ignorance. "That expression is an insult. I don't like it, so I expect you not to say it, again."

Bilbo nodded quickly. "I'm so sorry. I… I didn't know."

"No harm. And he called me that rude name because he, like a lot of people, doesn't like the idea that I serve Thorin in a particular fashion. I am Thorin's Dark Hands." He puffed out his chest proudly. "People other than dwarves think I am nothing but a hired assassin. That isn't exactly true." He looked around at the assembled dwarves. "I think everyone would like to get some sleep?" He made it a question, but everyone took the hint and went back to their wagons until it was only Bilbo with Dori's family and Thorin's family. "Let's sit by the fire, shall we?" Dori took Bilbo's hand as one would when leading a child and gave a gentle pull towards the dying fire.

The surprised look on Bilbo's face when Dori took his hand might have been laughable, if Bilbo hadn't looked – for just a moment – ready to bolt. The touch seemed to confuse him. He chewed on his bottom lip and looked nervous, but didn't make any move to get free from Dori.

Once they were all seating around the fire, Dori explained.

"The King Under the Mountain has always had a Dark Hands at their side; all dwarven rules do. Thorin was the first born of the royal family and I was given to him to become his Dark Hands. I was trained to do whatever needed to be done so that he would never have to do anything that might cause others to question his honor."

"You don't mind if you're dishonored?"

Dori shook his head. "Thorin's honor IS my honor and I will protect him and his honor for all of my life. It was what I have been trained to do. I will lie, cheat, steal, and kill for him. I will die for him. This is the heritage that has been passed down in my family for uncountable generations. We have always been attached to the Durin family. My mother firmly expected me to become the Dark Hands of the King Under the Mountain, but, after many years of me standing at Thorin's side, his father and grandfather publically proclaimed that Thorin was no longer the heir to the throne. They let it be known far and wide that…" Dori sent Thorin a strained look. "They did not consider him to be right for the position. Instead, they declared that Thorin's younger brother, Frerin, would be heir. This was a problem. I am loyal to Thorin and I would never have had the same depth of devotion to Frerin as I do to Thorin. So they requested that my mother, who trained me and had been Prince Thrain's Dark Hands, train another who would serve as Prince Frerin's Dark Hands. She went out that day and returned with Nori. He was only twelve-years-old and a skinny little orphan beggar." Dori looked at his brother, fondly. "Mother adopted Nori and trained him to serve Frerin. At Kili's birth, my mother found Ori and began his training. As Kili has stepped aside so Fili can be heir, I'm afraid that now I need to find a Dark Hands for Fili." He sighed and shook his head. "Durins are so troublesome."

Bilbo looked thoughtful. "Right. So Thorin is the leader now. Frerin will be leader. Kili was going to be leader, but now Fili is. Right?"

"Nope," Nori was looking up at the stars. "Thorin is prince because we can't have the coronation away from Erebor. Once he is crowned, Thorin will be King Under the Mountain. Kili has decided he isn't suited to be a king, so Fili will be next King Under the Mountain after Thorin. Frerin… Frerin is dead." He stood up abruptly and stalked away to his wagon.

"Ah," Bilbo rubbed his hands together awkwardly. "Sorry. I shouldn't have asked. I am sorry."

"Not your fault," Dori asked him, quietly. "My brothers and I have all been raised to have an especially close bond to those we will serve. It's not a romantic love, though Thorin and I were fortunate enough to fall in love. That was only chance. When Frerin died, everyone was hurt. He was intelligent, bright, and kind. When he fell in battle, Nori was… well… lost. Frerin was his reason for living and without that reason…" Dori's voice trailed away and he swallowed hard. "I thought we might lose Nori for a while, too. But he's strong and he survived. He concentrated on his other skills and working to help the rest of us. But it still hurts him to talk about Frerin."

"I shouldn't have said anything." Bilbo rugged at his hair, absently. He looked at Thorin. "So, he was your brother then."

Thorin nodded, his throat closing up, painfully. He couldn't talk.

Thorin would always remember that terrible battle and how he'd found his younger brother after it had all be done. He'd had to return home and tell Dis that they were all that was left. Dori hadn’t exaggerated about Frerin. He had truly been the golden child of the Durin family. He was good-looking and strong and fiercely intelligent. While Thorin was years older, Frerin had already grown to twice Thorin's mass and was an excellent warrior. He had also been charming and was easily able to hold intelligent conversation with visiting dignitaries and nobility about everything from mining to poetry. He was everything that Thorin wasn't and while some might have been grown to be bitter about the perfection of a sibling who had unwillingly displaced him, Thorin had adored his baby brother. He was so proud to be the brother of Frerin and he had delighted in all of Frerin's successes.

It was an uncomfortable silence that followed until Dori cleared his throat. "To get back to the point, while I may do dark deeds for Thorin, I trust absolutely that he will only ever ask me to act in the best interests of our people because he is good and just and wants our people to be safe and healthy and happy."

Bilbo's face lit up with unexpected understanding. "Oh, I see! So, you're like one of Farmer Maggot's dogs!"

Dori blinked. "What?"

"Farmer Maggot's dogs. They're terrible. Nearly four feet tall and almost two hundred pounds of muscle. They've got jaws big enough to crush a pumpkin. Everyone knows how awful they are. If anyone tries to steal from Farmer Maggot's fields, those dogs will be after them faster than lightening. But I was walking by the farm and I fell and hurt my foot. I started to limp home, but one of the dogs was suddenly just there, right by my side. I was scared, but he didn't try to hurt me. He just walked with me all the way home and I'd swear up and down that he was just trying to see I was alright until I got home. He wasn't going to hurt me because I wasn't trying to steal from Farmer Maggot. So, you're like the dog. You can do…ah… dark things if you have to protect Thorin, but you don't really want to do that sort of thing and that's the important thing, you see." He smiled cheerily at Dori.

They all stared at Bilbo, as he had just innocently compared refined, sophisticated Dori with a dog. Bilbo, finding himself at the center of attention, suddenly turned self-conscious and turned his focus on his toes. 

Dis kindly pronounced that it was time for everyone to get some sleep and Bilbo was dragged away, not by Fili and Kili who had tried to grab him, but by Ori who dashed to his family's wagon, tugging Bilbo along behind him and cheerfully calling to his friends,

"I get Bilbo!"

Fili and Kili sulked back to their wagon after they shouted back that it was their turn to have Bilbo the next night.

The next morning, as the sun began to rise over the vast fields of the Shire, the party of thirteen dwarves, a hobbit, and a wizard set off. There had been hugs and tears and promises and well-wishes, but in the end, they left. Every one of the adventurers kept looking over their shoulders at their loved ones who stayed behind. Even Thorin looked back at Dis and hoped desperately that he would be able to return her sons to her. Looking back did make him notice that Master Baggins was the only one who didn't look behind and kept his eyes eagerly on the road ahead.

He had no loved ones to miss.

 

To be continued…


	7. Forty

Chapter 7: Forty

 

The wagon shared by Dori and his brothers was much like the one Thorin shared with his sister and her sons. It wasn’t large, but seemed to hold everything needed. When it came time to sleep, bed rolls were laid out on the floor and everyone made themselves comfortable. Ori hadn’t stopped smirking the whole time.

“Fili and Kili thought they’d get you tonight, but I’m faster than either of them,” Ori said, just a touch smugly when Bilbo asked why he was so pleased. He put his bed roll near Bilbo and waved a hand at it. “You can use mine.” He said it so proudly that Bilbo just knew that to refuse would be an insult. Still, he asked if it would be alright. He didn’t feel quite right as Ori seemed so very young. Ori nodded, vigorously. “It’s very alright! I have a blanket to sleep on and if you accept, I get to brag to Fili and Kili that I was able to do you a favor.” He beamed with joy.

A look at Dori showed only a fond smile. “Go on,” Dori said. “Nothing makes him quite so happy as besting the princes.”

“Do you mean Fili and Kili wanted me to stay with them?”

“Very much. They’ll be sulking right now because they thought they’d get to have you as their guest tonight.”

That they would fight for Bilbo’s company was astounding.

Bilbo slowly sat on the bed roll. It did seem to make Ori happy. He happened to glance at Nori and found that he was being intently stared at. At first, he’d thought Nori might be cross with him for mentioning Frerin, but Nori didn’t look angry. He frowned, but he seemed more thoughtful. So Bilbo asked, “Is something wrong?”

Nori blinked and looked away. “No. Just something on my mind.” Then he rolled over on his bed roll. He lay there for a minute, then sat back up and stared at Bilbo, again. He scratched the back on his neck, then drummed his fingers on his knee. “I think…” he broke off and made an unhappy sound before he slowly reached out with one hand, carefully enough that he gave an impression that he was trying not to scare Bilbo away, and brushed the tips of his fingers across the back of Bilbo’s hand. Then he sat back and stared at his hand, as if he were puzzled.

“Nori?” Dori asked. “Is something wrong?”

“No… I don’t think so. Maybe. I’m not sure.” He gave a growling sort of noise of frustration, then lay back down and turned his back to all of them. “Oh, forget it! Good night!” And that was the last they heard from him that night.

Dori blew out the candle and everyone went to sleep. Bilbo lay awake for a long while after the others had fallen asleep. The idea that Dori worked as Thorin’s assassin and spy and whatever else was almost unbelievable for even though Bilbo had only known them all for only a short time, he knew Dori was kind and gentle. That Nori and Ori were being trained in the same function was mind-boggling. What kept Bilbo awake, however, wasn’t fear of them. Not at all. He found the three brothers very likeable and friendly, even if Nori behaved rather oddly. He wasn’t at all afraid of them. But the knowledge that Ori had, for some reason, snatched Bilbo away from Fili and Kili simply for his company, that Kili and Fili had been more than a little upset that they hadn’t gotten Bilbo first, was shocking. They wanted his company so much that they squabbled over him. It made Bilbo feel rather giddy. No one had ever wanted his companionship so much. Surrounded by near strangers and in an unfamiliar place, and with the novel idea that people wanted him around, it was very difficult for Bilbo to fall asleep, but, eventually, he did.

He dreamed of a red-headed dwarf with a magnificent braided beard.

Bilbo woke with a gasp. He sat in the darkness and, with his unusual dream still fresh in his mind, Bilbo blushed fiercely. 'Goodness!' He thought. 'Bombur’s married!' Bilbo had never had such a dream and it disturbed him more than a little. Of course his father had sat him down when Bilbo had grown into a youth and explained all such things an adult hobbit would have to deal with when it came to intimate relations, but he’d never mentioned dreams. Bilbo resolved to avoid Bombur at all cost – no matter how majestically round Bombur was. There was no doubt at all that if Bombur were to take up residence in the Shire, he’d have a whole gaggle of suitors in a love-struck daze vying for his attention. As a general rule, hobbits appreciated a round figure and Bilbo, who was as thin as a rake, had never been considered attractive.

Bilbo shook his head – such foolish notions! Best to stop thinking about such things. Instead, Bilbo’s mind drifted the journey and the vast danger ahead. He'd be going weeks without a bath. There would be no routine, there would be dirt and sweat and hunger and cold nights and… and…

Bilbo looked across the wagon to where Dori slept sitting up. It was as if he were watching over the three of them – Nori, Ori, and Bilbo – even while he slept. It was lovely to imagine, for just a few minutes, that he was included in the family group and made all his worry calm to a simmer rather than a rolling boil. A family. They were such a close family and they'd invited him into their home without a second thought! Bilbo could have crowed with happiness, if it wouldn't have been vulgar to do such a thing. Ori had sat with him, earlier, and told stories of the little company of dwarves while they’d waited for Dori to declare it was time to sleep and, even after that, Nori had giggled wickedly as he'd told Bilbo some of his favorite dirty jokes that made Bilbo blush.

Slowly, a tiny smile stretched Bilbo's lips. It almost –almost – felt like he might be part of the family. Of course, that was foolish. He wasn't a dwarf and they wouldn't really want him all the time, but in the still night, with the memories of brotherly laughter, of Dori's urging him to eat while he had the chance, and Ori and Nori gently needling at one another, Bilbo felt so warm, so at peace that for a fleeting moment, he didn't care if he ever saw another hobbit again so long as he could stay with the dwarves.

Then, Bilbo thought of Bag End. His lovely home that he always kept so perfect – just the way his father had liked it when he'd been alive. Bilbo had worked so hard on Bag End. Without any real occupation to keep him busy, he’d had lots of time to clean and keep everything in order. His gardens were entirely free of weeds and…

Weeds.

Would Ms. Dis know to weed? What if she accidently pulled up his marigolds? Did dwarves know how to garden?

Bilbo sat bolt upright and, in the darkness, hunted for his jacket.

"What's wrong?"

Bilbo found his jacket and began to tug it on. "I just… I have to go, Dori."

"Oh. Well, the latrine ditch is straight out and a little to your left. Don't fall in."

"Thank you, I won't." But he didn't need the latrine ditch. His mind was flooded with images of spoiled marigolds. And what if dwarves didn't know what bathrooms were? Humans used outhouses and if Ms. Dis didn't know how to take care of the bathroom the pipes might burst in the winter and flood the house and ruin everything and then the poor dwarves would be homeless, again, and Bilbo would have to spend ages putting his home to rights.

Bilbo marched himself right out of Dori's wagon. The moon was bright overhead and gave plenty of light to see by. With a quick step, Bilbo went straight to the wagon where Thorin's family lived. He raised his hand to knock on the door, then froze. It was the middle of the night. He couldn't just wake everyone up. Thorin would be so very cross and Bilbo didn't like upsetting people. He didn't like yelling or people being angry with him. For a long while, he stood outside Thorin's wagon, arguing with himself about whether or not to knock. In the end, he lowered his fist to his side.

There were hours left till daylight, yet. He wouldn't be rude and wake up Thorin's family in the middle of the night, but he had to talk to Ms. Dis. He had to tell her to be careful of the flowers and to make sure the chimney got cleaned or they would have a fire and she would have to be kind to Widow Burlap because she was a cranky old hobbitess, but still a good person who would speak for a people in need and her voice carried weight in the community.

Standing in the darkness, Bilbo began to chew his thumbnail. He could just write a list of advice – that would be polite as the dwarves knew nothing about Hobbiton at all – but he would need paper and the only paper he knew about was back at Bag End and he hadn't thought to bring any – why hadn't he thought to bring paper and ink? He could borrow some, but, again, that would involve waking someone up. If he just waited until morning, he was sure that he would oversleep and Ms. Dis would leave with her companions for Bag End long before Bilbo opened his eyes and then it would be too late and…

The door of Thorin's wagon flew open and Bilbo found himself staring at Thorin's hairy chest. Slowly, Bilbo dragged his eyes up and met Thorin's thoroughly unamused scowl. His hair was disheveled and he was bare but for his trousers. Clearly, he'd just woken up.

"Are you lurking out here for a reason?"

"No!" Bilbo squeaked out. Then he cleared his throat and tried, again. "I'm sorry to disturb you, but I had a thought that Ms. Dis didn't know anything about Hobbiton and she might like to have some information, but I didn't want to wake you…" Bilbo's voice trailed away as Thorin just stood there, stone-faced and silent. "I really didn't. Honest." Bilbo felt himself wither under that harsh glare and didn't blame Thorin in the slightest. No one liked being woken up in the middle of the night. "I'll just… go."

Bilbo had taken only two steps before Thorin quietly said, "Go sit by the fire."

"There is no fire." Gloin had very competently shoveled piles of dirt on the glowing coals and ashes before he stomped them all to death.

Thorin stared at where the camp's fire had been before he slowly nodded, as if it had taken him time to consider whether or not Bilbo was right. "Then go sit where the fire had been. I'll be right back." Thorin went in the direction that Dori had said the latrine ditch was in and Bilbo realized that he hadn't been what had woken Thorin.

Doing as he was told, Bilbo sat by the fire pit on a log the dwarves had rolled in front of it as a convenient seat. After a few minutes, Thorin sat next to him. "I'll take the watch now, Bombur," Thorin called out.

Bilbo heard a movement in the darkness and realized that Bombur had been out there the whole time and suddenly his dream was at the forefront of his mind in glaring bright colors. He blushed in the darkness, thankful that Bombur would never - NEVER! – know about that dream. 

There was a long moment of awkward silence after Bombur had rejoined his family and Bilbo, now alone with Thorin, found himself chewing his thumbnail, again.

Thorin's large hand took Bilbo's and pulled it away from his mouth. Bilbo looked at Thorin with surprise, but found that Thorin looked surprised, too. After a moment, Thorin said, "Forgive me. Fili used to bite his fingernails after the death of his father and I spent a great deal of his childhood trying to stop him. If I didn't, he'd chew them bloody. Now, what did you want my sister to know?"

Bilbo found that if he focused on his knees so he wasn't actually looking at Thorin's face he could talk without feeling too awful uncomfortable. And he did talk. He spoke of every tiny little worry that sprang into his mind and when he was done, Bilbo was out of breath and felt quite silly. Most of what had been plaguing him, once he said it, didn't seem like much of a worry at all. As he reflected on what he'd just said, he cringed and waited for Thorin to tell him that such things were not worth waking a person up for.

Rather, Thorin slowly nodded and simply said, "I will pass your message to her."

"I'm being foolish, aren't I? Everyone says I worry too much, but I can't seem to stop. I'm sure your sister wouldn't do anything to damage my home, but I keep thinking of all these little things that might go wrong." It was foolish. Everything would work out. Ms. Dis would be staying in his home and he was fairly certain that no one would disturb a group of homeless mothers and children, so they wouldn't bother his home. And while it had been almost physically painful to invite strangers to take over his home, he found that he couldn't have done anything else.

Again, Thorin took some time to answer. Perhaps, Bilbo thought, being a prince meant that Thorin was used to weighing out his words carefully before speaking. That was a likely explanation. "If your burden feels more bearable after speaking, then it cannot be so foolish, I think."

Bilbo smiled. No one had ever said such a thing to him. "I didn't think of it like that. Thank you." Thorin really was very wise.

Thorin stood. "You must sleep, now. We travel early." He gave a chuckle. "And if Dori wakes to find you gone, you will not like the resulting lecture."

"You two, you are getting married?"

"We are, after the quest. I am fortunate enough to have found a place in his heart." He gave a little pull on Bilbo’s arm and tugged Bilbo to his feet. He carefully began to lead Bilbo back to Dori's wagon. "And you? Do you leave a lover behind?"

Bilbo felt his face flare red and he shook his head, wildly. "No! No one. Goodness, I wouldn't even know what… and it's just not respectable… what would people say? That's just not done." He was very grateful when they stopped walking and Thorin opened the door of Dori's wagon. He was not so grateful to find Dori just at the door, apparently ready to rush out.

Dori saw Bilbo and rolled his eyes. "I don't need any more gray hairs, Bilbo. Don't go disappearing! You were gone too long."

For a moment, Bilbo was suddenly a child, again, being chastised for some wrong. But Dori's eyes held warmth that Bilbo's father's never had. With Thorin's steady hand on his arm and Dori looking down at him, Bilbo felt a sudden sharp something deep inside of himself. It was almost painful, but he liked it. He wanted Dori to keep looking at him with that concern and he wanted Thorin to keep talking, his words soft and wise. It felt… like family.

The next morning they set out on the journey after Gandalf rejoined them. There was hugging and kissing and Ms. Dis had thanked Bilbo, yet again, for allowing the use of his home and promised to remember all Thorin had told her so Bilbo had no reason at all to worry. She had also pressed a finely embroidered handkerchief into his hands.

"Bofur said you'd forgotten yours, so you take mine."

It was a ladies' handkerchief, decorated with flowers and butterflies. When Bilbo looked at her, questioningly, she took his hand in hers and gave him a little squeeze.

"That is small enough thanks for all that you are doing for my people, but I have little else to thank you with. Take it and know that I am glad for you to have it. On your return, I will give you one hundred more."

She seemed so very serious that Bilbo nodded. "Thank you, Ms. Dis. Please, don't go to any trouble for me, but I am happy to have it. I'll take very good care of it." He folded it up carefully and tucked it into his pocket, though he had no intention of using something so lovely to blow his nose on. No, he had another plan for it.

It was a hard send off for all. Bombur's wife had to pry their youngest child away, crying miserably as she wailed for her father. In the end, they rode on and the family staying behind watched them leave with fear and hope and pride. Bilbo, unlike the others of company, didn't look back at the ones they were leaving behind. The lovely warm feeling he'd gotten the previous night still lingered and he was happy as a lark to look forward to the adventure ahead.

"Master Baggins, no dithering!"

The warm feeling in Bilbo's chest cooled a bit at Thorin's reprimand, but while he cringed a bit he did his best to keep up with the others because Dori was looking at him with a fond smile and Nori had pulled his pony to a slow walk to let Bilbo catch up with him; Fili and Kili were riding on either side of him and Ori, riding beside Kili leaned over to whisper some joke. Ahead, Thorin looked over his shoulder, again, to be sure everyone was following. While Bilbo was sure that Thorin was cross about something and Bilbo did wish that it wasn't him who'd set off Thorin's temper, it was clear that he was wanted. They wanted him along. That might not last when they found out how useless he was, but he was going to enjoy the experience while he could.

###

It was after they left Rivendell that they found a small village near in the foothills of the Misty Mountains and a single room for rent at an inn. It was to be their last taste of comfort until they reached Erebor and, even then, they were more likely to face down a dragon than find any comfort. Still, the room was warm and dry and it was good to have a roof overhead and a fire on the hearth.

The adventure, thus far, had been both more and less exciting that Bilbo had guessed it would be. Though the trolls and orcs and wargs had been more than enough excitement and danger to last a lifetime, there had been many, many days of peace and uneventful travel. He’d grown to like his dwarves very much and admired them greatly and had decided many weeks ago that he would sooner have his dwarves as houseguests than any of his relatives. His dwarves were all strong and brave and talented and intelligent – they were, by far, the best people Bilbo knew and he wished desperately that he had some way to impress them. He especially wanted to find some way to impress Thorin for while Thorin was often cross, he had never been outright cruel and Bilbo could understand how stressful Thorin’s position must have been. Thorin was brave and honorable and all around wonderful and if Bilbo could find just one way to please Thorin, he would have been a very happy hobbit indeed.

All-in-all, Bilbo was quite happy for the first time in a very long time. After only a few days on the road and away from Hobbiton he had discovered that much of his anxiety had begun to drift away, like morning fog in a gentle breeze. He still found himself plagued by worry or fear from time-to-time and during those moments, he would, as was his habit, clean. It was hard to find things to clean in the wilds and while, at times, he was able to wash clothes in some little brook or river, there wasn’t always a handy water source. His trouble was solved when Bifur, kind soul that he was, taught Bilbo how to tend the ponies after a long day of riding and Bilbo decided that brushing the ponies down was a very pleasant way to clean.

The inn where they’d taken a room for the night had obviously been designed for humans and elves, but there was room for everyone and Bilbo was so pleased not to be sleeping with a rock in his back that he didn’t much care that the furniture was all too big. He warmed his hands by the fire as they all prepared to go down to the common room for an evening meal. 

"Attention, attention!" Everyone in the room turned to see Fili standing on the man-sized bed that dominated the room. Kili stood nearby and looked rather red in the cheeks. Fili announced, "I wanted to remind everyone to wish my dear big brother a very fine birthday tomorrow!"

A resounding cheer went up and Kili turned red as an apple.

Bilbo thought of his last birthday even as he clapped along with the others. It hadn’t been a grand affair, as was custom. As he had no close friends or relations and the idea of a large, noisy gathering where he was the center of attention was about as close to a nightmare as he could get, he had decided to celebrate on his own and take a nice walk around town to hand out presents. Kili, he suspected, would have been just the opposite and would have loved to have a party in his honor. 

“You look like you’re taking a walk in your thoughts," Fili, suddenly at Bilbo’s side, commented quietly. He was, Bilbo had learned, a good deal quieter than his brother. It would have been very easy for Fili to be overshadowed by Kili’s loud enthusiasm for life, but, somehow, that never seemed to happen.

Bilbo had grown very fond of the two brothers during their travels despite the whole troll incident. The boys were good-natured and friendly, always making an effort to include Bilbo. He had found himself wondering what it might have been like if he’d had little brothers.

“Oh, you just bring to mind my last birthday,” Bilbo answered.

“Do anything special?”

“No,” Bilbo shook his head. “Not really. Just had a quiet day. You missed it, you know. I turned forty-years-old only two days before you lot arrived at my door.”

The whole company went very quiet. The silence was so remarkable that Bilbo looked around and found he was being stared at. Kili's mouth had fallen open and Fili's eyes were very wide. Thorin’s glare was as black as Bilbo had ever seen it and it was truly a frightening sight.

Closing his eyes, Thorin took a deep breath and, when he finally opened his eyes, he looked almost calm and sighed. "Let's go down and get something to eat." He looked at the others with hard eyes. "We'll discuss this later."

Bilbo watched dumbly when the other dwarves nodded and they all began to leave the room. Bilbo caught Fili’s arm. “What is? What are we going to discuss?”

The odd look Fili gave him was enough to alarm Bilbo – such a look of shock and worry. But Fili smiled and patted Bilbo on the shoulder. “It’s nothing for you to worry about. Come on. This place must have something to eat.”

On the walk down to the common room, some of the dwarves stayed silent while others muttered in urgent whispers to one another. Nori walked exactly next to Bilbo, but didn't say a word to him and Bilbo began to chew on his fingernail. He had done something dreadful, but he couldn't figure out what. Some offense to the young princes when they were talking about Kili's birthday, perhaps?

There were other guests at the inn but not too many and they were all able to sit together by pushing a few tables together. The inn didn't have much in the way of choices of food, but they were all served pork chops and Bilbo was thankful for it. It made a welcome change after so long of having rations and then the light fare the elves of Rivendell had provided. While they all ate, Bilbo kept glancing around at the dwarves and worrying more and more until he felt like his stomach had turned itself in knots. It didn't help that Thorin was talking with Balin and Dori in angry undertones in the dwarves' native language. He had the dreadful feeling they were talking about him. Bilbo became so worked up that he couldn’t eat more than half what he’d been served. He took a few sips of water from the mug Dori had set in front of him, but even that didn’t seem to settle well and he felt he might be sick. At last, he couldn’t stand the tense atmosphere and gently elbowed Nori, who sat beside him, before he whispered, "I'm going upstairs."

Nori nodded and started to stand, but Bilbo shook his head. "You aren't finished eating. I can find my way back to the room."

After a moment's consideration, Nori nodded. "Go straight there and I'll be up in just a minute. I need to talk to Dori about something."

At the foot of the stairs, Bilbo looked back at the company. Most of them still looked unhappy and, near desperate for a way to make up for whatever social blunder he'd made, Bilbo suddenly remembered that he’d said he would buy food for everyone back in Hobbiton and this was as good a time as any. Pleased to do something to make his companions happy, Bilbo went to the bar to wait for the innkeeper to notice him so he could buy some supplies from the man.

He was so satisfied with his idea, congratulating himself that he'd finally done something right, something to soothe all the feathers he'd ruffled, that he didn't notice the person standing next to him until he felt a hand on his left arm. He fully expected to glance over and see Ori or Kili or even Bofur – any of the more tactile dwarves- but was stunned to find a stranger smiling at him.

The stranger was a dwarf, too, but he wasn't one of Bilbo's dwarves. He was taller than Bilbo, as most dwarves seemed to be, with long black hair and beard decorated with several tiny braids. He also reeked of ale.

"By my beard, such a sweet thing. What are you?" the dwarf rumbled, moving his beefy hand from Bilbo's arm to his shoulder.

Bilbo tried to squirm away. He didn't want to be touched by the stranger. He'd come to the point where he was used to his dwarves, familiar enough to be comfortable with their unthinkingly tactile nature. He was very certain that none of them would ever hurt him. This stranger, though, wouldn't move his hand when Bilbo squirmed. He tried to step away, but the stranger slipped his arm around Bilbo's shoulder and held him in place. Bilbo felt his heart start to thud with anxiety. He didn't want to make a scene. Everyone was already cross and if he was to make a scene over something so silly, it might embarrass his dwarves and everyone would stare at him and Bilbo hated that. He tried very hard not to draw the attention of his dwarves.

"Please, excuse me," Bilbo said, again trying to move away. "I really need to be going. My friends are waiting for me."

"Don't hurry away. Tell me your name, sweet." His hand traveled up and suddenly Bilbo felt the strange feeling of fingers running through his hair, fingernails scraping lightly across his scalp. It made an unpleasant chill run up Bilbo's spine.

"I need to go. Really."

"Oh, I'm sure your friends won't mind if you make a new friend. You're not a child, after all."

Of course he wasn't a child. Still, trying to move away without causing a scene that might embarrass his dwarves, Bilbo absently muttered, "Forty. I'm forty-years-old."

The dwarf pulled his hand away from Bilbo, like he was on fire, and stared at him, horrified. Slowly, the dwarf turned and Bilbo, following his gaze, found all his dwarves on their feet, glaring at them. The stranger held out both hands in front of himself in a gesture of surrender. "I… I didn't know. I swear."

Bilbo, too, looked back at his dwarves. Weapons were in hand. Thorin's face had turned so dark, so foreboding, that Bilbo was scared to look him in the eye.

A gentle hand took Bilbo's and he looked up to find Balin smiling down at him. "Let's go up to the room, lad. It's getting quite late."

At Balin's urging, Bilbo followed him towards the stairs. Balin let go of Bilbo's hand, but only to wrap a grandfatherly arm around Bilbo's shoulders. Unlike with the stranger, it felt perfectly natural to have Balin's arm around him. It struck Bilbo, then, that he hadn't felt his own grandfather's arm around him in many, many years. Even at his father's funeral, his grandfather hadn't given him a hug.

"Balin, why is everyone angry? Did I do something wrong?"

Dori cracked his knuckles, causing Bilbo to jump and look over his shoulder at the dwarves advancing on the stranger. He cringed at the sight of his dwarves being so upset.

"Certainly not." Balin tugged Bilbo along, up the stairs. "You did absolutely nothing wrong. You just let Thorin and Dori and the others deal with this issue. You're not hurt, are you?"

"No, not a bit. I just… I'm not very comfortable with people being so close." He wished he hadn't said it when Balin immediately took his arm off Bilbo's shoulders and stepped away, leaving a wide space between them and Bilbo opened his mouth to tell Balin that he really didn't mind Balin being so close, he just didn't like strangers. Balin certainly wasn't a stranger. Why, he was quite like another grandfather. But even when Bilbo opened his mouth to say he didn't mind Balin's arm around him, his voice failed and he closed his mouth. How pathetic was it for a hobbit of his age to go around practically begging for a hug? Ridiculous!

There was a loud crash and yelling from downstairs and, when Bilbo jumped at the sound and made as if to back down to investigate, Balin firmly kept him moving with gentle, "Don't worry about it. They'll all be up in a few minutes." And Bilbo was taken back to the room they were all crammed into and listened to Balin chatter about this that and the other thing, knowing that Balin was trying to distract him from whatever was going on downstairs.

Nearly overcome with the anxiety of the evening, Biblo went to the single large bed and began to straighten the blankets before he fluffed the pillow. Then he went and gathered up everyone's packs and put them in a tidy line against one wall, all facing outward with the shoulder straps neatly tucked in so they couldn't be seen from the front. He opened the window to give the room some fresh air, then started to collect everyone's traveling coats from wherever in the room they'd been abandoned and fold them before he set each on one their owner's pack.

"Bilbo, lad?" Balin asked after watching him for a time. "What are you doing?"

"Cleaning. This place is a mess and it should be clean. I need to clean." As always, it helped ease a little of the anxiety, but not as much as he'd hoped it would. He found a shirt Balin had discarded when they'd arrived. "I can try to fix this, if you like." Bilbo said, fingering a large tear in the fabric. "I have my sewing kit with me."

"No. I think that shirt is well and truly done for. It's best just thrown away."

Bilbo nodded, but, as soon as Balin turned away to rummage through his pack for his pipe, Bilbo folded up the shirt as small as he could, then stuck it into his own pack, right near the handkerchief Ms. Dis had given him. That shirt could be part of his project, too.

Soon enough, the door opened and all the rest of the company stomped in. Bilbo let out a breath. "Is anyone hurt? Did you fight? You shouldn't fight!"

Thorin clenched and unclenched his hand on the pommel of his sword. He shot a quick glance at Bilbo, then looked away. "Balin, a word?"

"Of course, lad." Balin stood to follow Thorin out.

As soon as the door closed behind them Kili was at Bilbo's side, leaning heavily against him. "Did that cretin hurt you? He said he was only talking to you, but I don't trust him."

"One word," Ori smiled sweetly at Kili. "Just give me the word and I'll make sure he never talks to anyone again, my prince."

"No," Fili sat on Bilbo's other side and gave Kili a stern look. "Don't you even think about giving Ori any such request. Uncle took care of it and it's done." He gave Bilbo a reassuring smile. "He won't bother you, again."

The whole company was a stew of unhappiness and it was all rather confusing. "Well… that's good? Right? Really, though, he didn't hurt me. He was just getting a little close and I don't like that. But you didn't have to get all worked up." Bilbo looked up at all of them, uncomfortably aware of all the focus on him. He suddenly remembered a few nights at the ale house near Bag End when people got a little too close for Bilbo's comfort and how he'd had to end up either giving them a sound talking-to or, on one occasion, a broken nose when they wouldn’t listen to him when he told them to back off. "It's not like that sort of thing has never happened before."

Dwalin growled. "What?!"

Bilbo went on and tried to ignore that everyone was getting upset, again. "I can take care of myself. I know how to chase off unwanted… attention."

"And you suffer much from such unwanted attention?" Nori, with that soft, sly voice of his, came to squat in front of Bilbo with his elbows resting on his knees.

"It's not that bad," Bilbo protested. He certainly didn’t want them to think he was some sort of trouble-magnet! "Not like you think. But mother and father left me well off. I own a good deal of rich farmland and other wealth that seems to attract that sort of attention and if I hadn't learned by now how to fend it off, I'd have been married years ago whether I wanted to be or not." Bilbo had meant it as a small joke, to lighten the dark mood he just didn't understand. No one laughed.

"Bilbo, dear, sit down." With a firm look from Dori, Bilbo did as he was told and sat on the bed. Dori had been very quiet ever since Bilbo had mentioned his age earlier, he’d been almost grim. It hurt Bilbo terribly to think he’d said or done something to upset Dori who had been so very kind to him. "I think we need to discuss your reason for being here, Bilbo."

"You know the reason. I want to help you get your mountain back."

Dori nodded. "Oh, I know that, but you have another reason, don't you?" His expression gentled a tad. "I read that letter in your bedroom – the one from your uncle."

"You read my mail?" Bilbo scowled, but it didn't seem to affect Dori at all. He would have to work on his scowl if it was to have the same effect that Thorin's did.

"Yes. I'm an incurably nosy busy-body. I did, in fact, read your mail. We all need to be honest with each other so there aren't any misunderstandings. Don't you agree?"

"Well, yes, of course, but-"

"Then why didn't you tell us how old you are from the start?"

What that had to do with anything at all, Bilbo had no idea. "Is it so important? Is that why everyone’s angry?" It would explain why the group’s mood had soured when Bilbo mentioned his age, earlier. “What’s wrong with being forty?”

Dori slowly shook his head. "There’s nothing wrong with it at all and no one is angry with you. But I think we all would have felt better if we’d known from the outset.”

Bilbo didn’t see why knowing people’s age was important – after all, he didn’t know how old any of them were - but thought that maybe it was some secretive dwarven cultural thing about turning forty. He didn’t feel it was polite to ask. Perhaps one day, when he knew them much better, he would ask.

“While we’re talking about the importance of being honest with each other,” Dori continued. “I would like to ask you, again, about why you are with us. I know you said you wanted to help, but does this have anything to do with the letter from your uncle? If I understood it correctly, he wants to take your home. Is that why you left with us?"

Bilbo sat there like a lump for a minute. He hadn't been prepared for this conversation. "I… it's not like you think. He doesn't want to steal it. He…" Bilbo's throat closed up uncomfortably. The he took a deep breath to calm himself. "He just wants to make sure it was my mother's last wish that I should have Bag End – it belonged to her, after all. She didn't leave a will, you see, so as I'm her only child, I inherited it. He wants to make a thorough search of Bag End to look for himself that she didn't hide a will somewhere because if her will says otherwise, Bag End may end up going to someone else. He just wants to see that her last wishes are respected."

"And is there a chance that if a will is found you will lose your home?"

“There is no will!” Bilbo jumped to his feet. “There isn’t! She would have said something or father would have said something if there was a will. There isn’t and she did want me to have Bag End. She did love me!” Bilbo slapped a hand over his mouth. He hadn’t meant to say that. “I mean… really…” Slowly, Bilbo sat back down.

Dori never lost his calm. “But IF a will is found, your people may have legal right to take your home?”

“Well… yes.” Bilbo gripped his trousers tightly until his knuckles turned white. Those sick knots in his stomach tightened, painfully. "My mother traveled a lot. All the time. Uncle said…" Again, Bilbo choked on his words and couldn't bring himself to say that his uncle had suggested more than once that Bilbo’s mother hadn't cared much for Bilbo because if she had, she would have stayed home to raise him instead of always going out adventuring. And if she hadn't cared for him, why would she want him to have Bag End? It was more likely that she would have wanted a Took to own it. "Uncle says that she was always closer to any Took relation than to any Baggins and that she would rather a Took have Bag End. But he's wrong. That's part of why I'm here. So long as I'm not at home, he can't search Bag End; he has no legal right to go into my home until I'm gone for at least a year and he can’t have me ordered by the Thain to let him search Bag End as I’m not currently there to be ordered about. So coming with you gives me time to think of how I can get him to stop without him nagging at me every day. But I really do want to help you; it's not just an excuse. I truly want to be of help to all of you."

Thorin and Balin walked back in, bringing everyone's attention off Bilbo, which he was very thankful for. Thorin looked so angry that Bilbo sprang to his feet and stood ram-rod straight, just as he would have had his father been in a mood.

"I'm sorry!" Bilbo blurted, not daring to take his eyes off Thorin's stormy expression. "I didn't mean to cause a scene. I'm not sure what went wrong, but I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Tell me what I did and I won't do it, again." Because he must have done something wrong, something to make that stranger think he was interested in keeping company with him. Maybe it was a dwarven thing and Bilbo had unintentionally said or done something that seemed innocent to him, but to a dwarf it seemed like a 'come-hither' look.

Thorin's expression didn't change as he looked at Dori, then at Balin, then back to Bilbo and raise one of those impressive eyebrows of his. "Apology is not necessary. I hold you at no fault." His gruff tone was completely at odds with his words. "However, it is late and I think it is time for all to be abed.

Bilbo couldn't just let it go. "But I don't understand. Just tell me what got everyone worked up, please."

Thorin crossed his arms and scowled at his feet. "That cretin shouldn't have laid hands on you."

"But I meant it… I'm not hurt. You didn't hurt him because of that, did you?" He really didn't want to be the cause of anyone getting hurt.

Thorin looked at Dori, again. He heaved a great sigh and cross his arms over his chest.

It was Dori who spoke up, putting a hand on Bilbo's shoulder. "In our culture, such touches are… intimate and you are not ready for such things. Now,” Dori patted him on the shoulder. “Try to get some sleep. I suspect we’ll be leaving quite early in the morning.”

Gandalf walked in, then. He was smiling brightly. "I see everyone is still in one piece. Now, then, I…" He broke off when Thorin took hold of the front of his robe with one fist. "Thorin?"

Thorin yanked Gandalf down until they were eye-to-eye, the result being Gandalf being bowed over nearly in half. "I would like a word with you, wizard."

Gandalf frowned at him. "Disrespect to wizards is not wise, Thorin."

Thorin's eyes narrowed. "I SAID - I would like a word with you!" Then he turned and walked out the door, hauling Gandalf behind him. The door slammed in their wake and then there was a good deal of yelling in the hall.

Dori slapped his hands together. "Well, as Thorin said, I think it's time we were all getting some sleep."

 

To be continued…


	8. Nori's Prince

Chapter 8: Nori's Prince

 

The realization of Bilbo's age came as a sever shock for the entire company.

They all crowded around several tables in the inn's common room that had been pushed together, talking in their own language so as to have a private conversation despite the inn’s other guests. Though Bilbo looked confused when he couldn't understand them, it was really for his benefit that they did it. No one wanted to worry him anymore than was necessary.

Dori sat with his head in his hands, feeling utterly miserable. He'd known something was wrong, but it hadn't occurred to him that it could have been so bad. And the fact that little Bilbo sat at the tables with them, completely ignorant about what they were all so upset over just made it worse. It was, Dori reflected, as if the boy couldn't imagine anyone would be concerned about him.

"I am utterly astounded!" Balin shook his head mournfully even as he took a deep draught of ale. "How could I not know?"

Everyone around the tables echoed similar sentiments. The mistreatment of a child was a serious crime and the fact that they hadn't seen how terribly young Master Baggins was and how he'd been so neglected by his own people was a sore point for all of them. The younger ones could be forgiven, but Dori held himself responsible.

He had raised four boys – if one were to include how he'd helped raise Fili and Kili. He should have recognized the signs: Bilbo had been so nervous and worried all the time, off-hand comments about how he lived alone, his clear desperation to please those around him, his simple delight of gathering flowers or a dozen other little signs that screamed of his youth. Of course he wasn't an adult! He behaved exactly like an unsure child and hadn't Dori and Thorin both mentioned how child-like Bilbo was before the quest had even begun?

"Moaning won't solve a thing," Bombur, a voice of practical reason, as always, spoke up. "The question is – what do we do? Not like we can just send him back."

Dwalin nodded. "It's too dangerous for a lad to go so far alone. He'd run into those orcs again, mark me."

"Or bandits or he might get hurt or sick… he can't just be sent away." Gloin growled out his words. "It would be a death sentence for any child."

"He's not being sent away," Thorin told them, exasperated. "It's not as if we have never traveled into dangerous places with children. When our people fled Erebor, there were many mothers-to-be and babes in arms. Bilbo will be fine with us."

Kili crossed his arms on the table in front of him and put his chin on his arms. "Should we take him back to Rivendell?" He ignored some of the more cross looks the older dwarves threw at him. "That Lord Elrond seemed to like him well enough."

"No," Thorin said, firmly. "We are not leaving him with elves. They will send him back to The Shire and that," he looked around at everyone. "Simply won't do."

"Dis would take care of him," Balin reminded Thorin.

"She will if he tells her the truth. He didn't think his age was important enough to tell us even when we mentioned we were taking him to face a dragon! Why should he tell her? Besides, Dis may not have legal standing if his family tries to get involved. Back at the Shire they'll be expecting him to play the part of an adult, again. Not to mention that they were more than ready to let him run off into the wilderness with complete strangers. We could have been a band of murderers for all they knew! No. He's far safer staying with us."

The conversation went on, arguing back and forth about what best to do to keep Bilbo safe, how could they have all missed the obvious signs that he wasn't an adult, and how could hobbits be so cruel to let a child raise himself. It was a lot of venting of frustration and anger more than anything useful.

"I'm going upstairs," Bilbo whispered to Nori just loudly enough for Dori to overhear. Nori started to get up, but Bilbo urged him to finish eating.

Nori clearly didn't want to leave Bilbo alone, but he nodded and told him to go straight upstairs. "I'll be up in just a minute. I need to talk to Dori about something." Nori watched as Bilbo headed for the stairs, but as soon as he was out of earshot, Nori turned to Dori and very seriously said, "He's mine."

"What?"

“He’s my Prince!”

Dori felt his heart skip. Of course, Nori could have another Prince, but he had refused all attempts for Dori to find him someone else, had even resisted working with Fili even though Nori was very fond of Fili. To think that Nori had, for whatever reason, accepted that he could work with Bilbo… it was akin to a miracle! Dori swallowed hard. “Are you sure?”

Nori nodded, frantically, his whole body trembling as he clearly tried to keep himself calm and not rouse too much attention. “If anyone will be my Prince, it will be Bilbo.”

“Bilbo’s your Prince. You have a Prince.” The words were sweet, like honey when Dori said them. Dori felt a tension ease within him, a tension that had been with him since Frerin’s death had left Nori so shattered. Dori felt the warmth of hope rise in him. “You’ve been acting oddly around him since he joined us.”

“I was trying to figure it out. I had a powerful urge to protect him ever since I found out he didn’t have any locks on his doors at his home and I hadn’t felt like that since… since Frerin. I didn’t think I’d ever feel like this, again.”

Dori put an arm around Nori and pulled him close. "Oh, my dear brother… what a relief! I feared we'd lose you!"

"So," Nori pulled away a little and gave Dori a shy, hesitant look that wasn't like him at all. "You're not… angry?"

"Angry? Whatever would I be angry about?"

"Bilbo. He's not a prince… not really. And he's not a dwarf. And I knew you were really hoping I would strike up with Fili."

"Well, it would have been convenient for you to find your place with Fili, I suppose, but in all honesty, I am just happy that you've found a place, no matter who that place is with. I'll find someone for Fili - it's my job to worry about that, not yours. You just concern yourself with establishing a relationship with Bilbo."

Nori’s eyes went very wide when he leaned close and whispered, “Do you… do you think Frerin would be angry? Would he think this a sort of betrayal?”

Of course Nori’s thoughts would drift there. Dori tried to image what he would have done if Thorin had been the one to die. The thought was painful – so painful that he was nearly certain he, too, would have died. He wouldn’t have had Nori’s strength to carry on. “Ah, my boy, Frerin would have been very happy for you to find purpose in life, again. He would never have been angry at you being happy. We'll have to explain to Bilbo what this means, of course, or he'll be confused, but I'm sure this is all meant to be. You’ll have to work at this, you know. You were with Frerin since you were a tiny tot so that wasn’t much effort for you, but you’ll have to really work to earn Bilbo’s trust.”

Nori smiled and leaned against Dori, his eyes crinkling at the corners with happiness. "Yes. What a grand chore – I will have my Prince." He turned to look at where Bilbo had gone and froze. His smile vanished. A cloud seemed to settle over his expression and Nori very slowly began to rise from his seat.

Alarmed by the change in his brother, Dori looked to see what had caught Nori's attention and he, too, felt a rage overtake him. There stood Bilbo, in all of his wide-eyed innocence, at the bar where a dwarf Dori had never seen before was standing far too close to their little hobbit. One-by-one, Dori was dimly aware that all the others at their table were noticing the same scene being played out. The whole table fell eerily silent. When the unknown dwarf dared to reach up his filthy hand and run his fingers though Bilbo's hair, Nori looked fit to explode.

Nori wasn't the only one who reacted strongly; Gloin was growling like a dog, Fili glared ominously, and Bombur, who had a daughter near Bilbo's age, had turn white with fury. Dori looked around their group and saw that each and every one of the looked ready to kill. As one, everyone stood and, at just that moment, Bilbo muttered something and the other dwarf jerked away from Bilbo and turned to face Thorin’s Company with terror on his face. And well he might.

Balin, bless his gentle soul, was the first to reach Bilbo's side and with a firm, kindly arm around Bilbo's shoulders, he guided Bilbo away from the foul example of a dwarf and up the stairs to where their room was located. Dori saw Bilbo look back at the scene in the common room over his shoulder, a worried, nervous look on his face, but Balin kept moving him upward.

With a purposeful stride, nearly stomping across the room, Thorin led the rest of the group to surround and confront the enemy. Everyone one was grumbling and trying to contain their anger, shifting this way and that as the urge to defend the youngest of their group roared within each one of them.

With a cold, simmering sort of anger, Dori pushed his way through the crowd of his friends and family and, without a word, wrapped his large hand around the throat of the pervert, who had been trying to babble excuses for his disgusting behavior. One shove, and Dori had the dwarf backed against the bar, and it took all his self-control not to crush the throat in his hand.

"He's turning blue, Dori," Nori hissed the words from where he stood at Dori's side. "See if you can't make him turn purple. Squeeze ‘im a little harder."

Bilbo’s attacker kicked out and managed to send a bar stool flying where it crashed noisily into a table.

"No."

Thorin's voice made Dori freeze. He relaxed his grip, just enough to let his prisoner breathe, and looked at Thorin.

"We don't need our stay here complicated by an obvious murder." Thorin, as he was completely incapable of being subtle, looked around the room at the staring humans. Thorin slowly turned back to look at the stranger. "You are going to explain yourself."

"It was a mistake!" The stranger said when Dori allowed him enough air to speak. "I didn't know he was so young! Never would have touched him if I'd known!"

"Shouldn't touch without being invited, anyhow," Quiet, gentle Bombur reprimanded. "Not polite."

"No," the stranger very quickly agreed. "Not polite, I won't do it again, I swear!" All the while, he clawed at Dori's hand, as if that would get him free.

"Stop that!" Ori snapped, slapping at the stranger's hands. "You'll hurt my brother!"

Everyone, from always friendly Bofur right to stern and serious Oin, had a suggestion about what ought to be done with the stranger if outright murder wasn't allowed. None of them were very nice suggestions.

It was only after the stranger had begun sweating and pleading that Thorin finally announced his decision. "Let him go, Dori."

There were several raised voices, shocked by the merciful judgment.

Thorin said, "Bilbo's age is not clear at first glance. We ALL know that." He looked around the group and the protests faded away.

Dori didn't like it, but he knew Thorin was right. They had been mistaken about Bilbo's age so condemning someone else for the same mistake was more than a little hypocritical. However, the moment Dori grudgingly released his grip, Thorin stepped up to and was nose-to-nose with the stranger.

"You," Thorin grumbled. "Will not come near my hobbit. Ever. Do you understand?"

After a gibbered, terrified agreement from the stranger, they all retired to their rented room. Bilbo seemed near panicking when they returned, but they all did their best to calm him. Gandalf arrived shortly and was rather firmly asked into the hall for a private conversation by Thorin.

After telling everyone to get some sleep, which was, admittedly, aimed at Bilbo rather than the rest, whom Dori knew could look after themselves, Dori look around the single room they all shared. He made sure Ori was with Kili and Nori was sticking close to a still shaken Bilbo.

'Poor little mite,' Dori thought. 'Trying so hard to be brave after being molested.' Dori could tell Bilbo had been rattled badly by the wandering hands of that pathetic excuse of a dwarf. Dori wouldn't blame Bilbo a bit if he went and burst into tears at any minute. But, no. Bilbo was doing his best and even managed to laugh at something Nori said.

Satisfied that all was well for the moment, Dori slipped out of the room to where Thorin and Gandalf faced off. Thorin was fuming. Dori looked at Thorin, then at Gandalf, then closed the door behind him and waited to see what would happen.

"Thorin," Gandalf said, "You seem a bit upset. Is there a problem?"

Thorin glared at Gandalf. "Only with your judgment. What do you think you're playing at? Giving me a child for a quest that has a very good possibility of ending in someone's death? At least Fili, Kili, and Ori are all adults, even if they don't act like it most of the time. Forty. He's forty! He should be still clinging to his mother's apron strings!"

Gandalf blinked, then laughed and it only made Dori grow more annoyed with the wizard. A child's well-being was nothing to joke about. Thorin looked as if he might explode. "I assure you," Gandalf said, at last, with a final chuckle. "Mister Baggins is every inch an adult hobbit."

Thorin kept up his glare.

Dori rolled his eyes. He didn't understand why Gandalf insisted on keeping up such a rouse or what he hoped to gain with it, but the truth, once it had been pointed out to them, was plain to see. Bilbo had a baby's hairless face. He was stubborn as a toddler and looked at the whole world with a naïve sort of awe. He was small and delicate and seemed all too likely to have tantrums and, if the display he'd shown at their first meeting was anything to go by, took fright easily.

Bilbo Baggins was a child.

As was typical of him, Thorin didn't let the argument go. He kept at Gandalf, chastising him for lack of judgment, questioning his compassion, ethics, and intelligence until the laughter had entirely fled Gandalf and he was left standing in the hall, fuming.

Gandalf threw his hands up in the hair with a huff, muttered something about thick-witted dwarves, then left.

Thorin started pacing up and down the hall with his hands clasped behind his back.

Dori didn't blame him for his bad temper and let him pace a little more before he spoke up, "Thorin?"

"I think that if even Gandalf doesn't seem to understand what our hobbit needs, then that means Bilbo needs us all the more. He will be safest in the company of mature, well-meaning adults – us."

"I couldn't agree more," Dori replied. Alone in the hall with Thorin, Dori took the rare private moment to hold Thorin's hand. It was nearly scandalous, especially without a chaperone, but Thorin looked ready to ignite and they really didn't need such a scene to heighten the already uncomfortable level of stress among the company. "Tell me what you're thinking."

"I think," Thorin took a deep breath to calm himself. "I think our hobbit has had a very rough life. He needs to be looked after. Perhaps," he gave Dori that questioning look he always had when he was unsure of his decisions. "A guardian?"

"A good idea," Dori gave Thorin's hand a proud squeeze. "However, keep in mind that you're going to have an all-out brawl when we have to decide who gets to have him. There isn't a single dwarf in there who wouldn’t happily foster him or even add him to their family officially."

Thorin's eyebrows drew together as he thought. He took his time with it. "Well… that would be bad. Can't have any quarrels – that would only lead to trouble." Thorin paused and his face set into the hard, angry look he always wore when he was thinking. "Then… I think… that we shall ALL be his guardians. Yes. That will work. No reason for arguing, then."

"You're sure that will be best?"

He paused, then nodded. "I have absolute faith in everyone of our company and we will all care for Bilbo. When we get to Erebor, something more traditional will be arranged, if it's necessary. He won't be sent to face the dragon. I will NOT do that to a child." Thorin tapped his foot on the floor. "It may be safest to leave him in Laketown. Men may treat our people poorly, but we should be able to find at least good family to take him in until our business with the dragon is done."

Dori beamed at Thorin. "You've thought of everything. Now we'll just have to explain things to Bilbo."

"Explain what?"

Both Thorin and Dori started and turned to find Bilbo standing in the doorway. Nori apologetically stood just behind him.

"Sorry," Nori muttered. "He's a quick little thing. Turned my back for just a minute and he slipped away. I couldn't stop him in time."

Thorin and Dori exchanged a significant look. Dori said, "It's alright, Nori. Go back in. We need to talk to Bilbo for a minute, anyway."

Nori nodded, obediently, and closed the door behind him.

Bilbo at once became nervous and seemed to curl in on himself. "Did I do something wrong?" He looked at Thorin, as if sure that any censure he got was certain to come from that direction.

"No," Thorin assured him. "That scene in the common room wasn't your fault." Thorin seemed to realize he was still holding Dori's hand (and in front of a child!) and quickly let go. It only proved how upset Nori was over the recent turn of events that he hadn't noticed and caused a fuss. "We need to talk to you about something very serious, Bilbo, but it is personal. Do you feel comfortable talking in front of the company?"

Bilbo chewed his lip for a minute. "Well… is it a bad personal something?"

"No, no," Dori assured him. "There is nothing wrong and no one is angry with you. It's just something we're all a little concerned about."

Bilbo didn't seem much calmed, but cautiously nodded. "I trust you. I really do, but there's no reason to be concerned. There's nothing wrong with me."

"Of course there isn't." Unable to resist the temptation, Dori pulled Bilbo into a hug.

Bilbo went stiff as a board and stood frozen like that for what seemed like a long time. Then, all at once, he went limp and just stood there. Dori felt quite sad that Bilbo was so unused to a simple thing like a hug that he didn't know how to react to one. Dori released Bilbo and patted his face.

Thorin pushed open the door and Nori, who'd been waiting just inside the room, rushed to Bilbo and looked him up and down, as if any harm might have come to him in the thirty seconds since they'd been separated.

Thorin rumbled, "Sit down, Bilbo. Everyone. I want this settled before we leave this village." He paused and crossed his arms over his chest, scowling in that adorable way he always did when he was trying to find the right words. Finally, he said, "Bilbo, we all know you haven't had a good life."

Mortified, Bilbo lowered his face. His shoulders hunched up, giving him the appearance of a turtle trying to hide in its shell. He began to fiddle with the buttons on his waist coat. "There's nothing wrong with my life."

Dori sat next to Bilbo on the bed, making him and Nori into book ends on either side of their hobbit.

Bilbo was clearly uncomfortable with being the center of attention so Dori knew it was best to get the whole awkward situation over with as quickly as possible. "After reading that letter from your uncle and the terrible thing he suggests…"

"I know what the letter says!" Bilbo flared, jumping to his feet. "I read it, it's my letter and I already read it and I know what it says!" He very suddenly seemed to realize he was shouting and that everyone was staring at him. He turned very red and bit his lip, looking lost and shocked at his own temper. "It's not… I mean… it's not what you think." His voice was painfully choked.

“You have nothing to be embarrassed about,” Dori felt his heart go out to the lad. "We want you to know that we're all your friends, Bilbo. We all care for you. No matter what that uncle of yours was trying to do or what the rest of your family was like, we care for you."

Bilbo looked completely bewildered and when Nori, in a show of support, tried to move closer to Bilbo, Bilbo jumped away from him. It almost broke Dori's heart to see the hurt on Nori's face and how flustered Bilbo became after just a few gentle words. “Care? Yes. Oh.” Bilbo wrung his hands together. “But it’s not as bad as you’re making it out to be.” He shook a finger at Dori, sternly. “This is why you shouldn't read other people's mail – people get confused when they don’t know the whole situation. There's nothing wrong with my life. There are just a few little bumps in the path and I'm dealing with them. I will be perfectly fine!"

Balin very gently said, "I know you will be fine. We all do. You've always taken care of yourself, haven’t you? But we are concerned for you. You can understand that, can't you?"

Bilbo's temper, still clearly simmering, wasn't much calmed, but there were few alive who could stand against Balin's kindness. So Bilbo took a deep breath. "Yes. That's reasonable."

"Certainly it is," Balin went on. "We all care for you very much and we want only what is best for you. Now, Dori was trying to tell you something and I think you ought to hear him out without getting yourself upset. Don’t you?”

Bilbo's hands clenched and unclenched fretfully at his sides. He glanced nervously at Dori. “I didn’t mean to be rude. Please, forgive me." He brought his thumb up to his mouth and started chewing on his thumbnail. “But, what’s this about? Why talk about my family now? Does this have something to do with what happened downstairs?”

“In a way,” Dori answered. “That little incident made us all very angry that you were treated so foully. After reading that letter from your uncle, I understand that your family isn’t entirely supportive of you, but none of us want you to think yourself alone any longer. If such a situation happens again you must remember that you have people around who will defend you. I can’t speak for everyone here, of course, but I wanted you to know that I think of you as family.”

At once, everyone began talking and shouting to reassure Bilbo that they, too, regarded him as family. Dwalin shouted that he would defend Bilbo to the death and Fili and Kili told Bilbo that he was more than welcome in their family, that their mother already liked him very much. Gloin made everyone aware that he would happily look forward to having Bilbo spend time with his wife and son.

Bilbo blinked and, very slowly, a charming blush spread across his face. "F-family? Really?"

"Really," Balin easily replied with a smile. "But would you be offended to have dwarves as family?"

"Oh, no! Of course not! No, why, I'd be very pleased to have people like you as family. But…" The expression that sat on Bilbo's face was a sight; he was somewhere between amazed, hopeful, and utterly terrified. "I… I don't know! This is silly to talk about!" Then, entirely flustered by the conversation, he burst out, "I… I have to leave!" When a general commotion broke out, he assured them, "I'm just thirsty. I need a drink of water and there's a well in the town square. I'll be right back." Bilbo said it all very quickly and looked at no one as he hurried out of the room.

Nori, without a word to anyone, followed Bilbo.

After the door had closed behind Nori, Dori took a deep breath and stood, facing the rest of the company. "I would like to announce," he said, proudly. "That my Nori has found his second Prince - Bilbo Baggins!"

A great cheer went up; they were so happy and tremendously relieved for Nori. Ori, overjoyed, threw himself at Dori and hugged him so tightly that Dori almost felt his feet lift off the ground. Even Thorin, who was not one for public displays of emotion, smiled and leaned against Dori for a moment.

"A great day," Thorin murmured. "Despite the incident downstairs, this must be a great day. Even if Bilbo did get himself worked up and didn’t let us finish telling him that he would stay with us and have a home in Erebor after the quest."

“We’ll tell him later, when he’s calm.”

They waited a short time to give Bilbo a chance to collect himself before Dori and Thorin headed down to find Bilbo and Nori. They didn't get far.

The inn's common room was dark but for moonlight shining in through the large front window. The innkeeper must have closed up directly after they’d all headed upstairs. There was just enough light coming in through the window for Dori and Thorin to see two shadowed figures sitting together on the bottom step of the stairs. Nori and Bilbo's voices were quiet, but clear. It was plain they were in the middle of the conversation.

"So…" Bilbo hesitantly said. "You're like Dori and you were trained to work for Frerin, but he's gone."

"Right. Now, Dori went and told you that my Frerin died and, I swear to you, I thought my life ended that day. Everything I'd been raised to do – protect him and do whatever dark deed he wanted done – was gone. For years now, I felt like I was fading away a little more every day. It was a struggle to get through every day and I often pretended to be happy so I wouldn't worry the others. Then I set eyes on you. It’s like I just told you - I will be your Dark Hands and I will work with you just like Dori works with Thorin."

“I don’t have to marry you, do I?”

Nori barked out a laugh. “No! ‘Course not, you silly thing. You’re a little young for my taste, anyway.”

Bilbo seemed immensely comforted by that. "But… I think you may be wrong. I'm not a prince."

"I know."

"I don't have any dark deeds to be done."

"That's alright."

"So… maybe you're wrong about all this."

"No." Nori spoke with utter confidence. "I'm right. You are mine and I will protect you all the days of my life."

“But how do you know?”

Nori shrugged. “It just seems right.”

Bilbo put his thumb to his mouth and started chewing on his nail. "This is really going to complicate things." After a short time, Bilbo stood and started walking to the door of the inn. He noticed Nori following and told him, "You don't have to come. I'm just getting that drink of water."

"I'll come along."

"I don't need a babysitter."

"But it makes me happy to know you're safe."

Bilbo wavered. "Well… alright. But I really don't need you to hover. It's not like I'm important enough that anyone would want to hurt me."

Dori and Thorin watched while Bilbo and Nori left the inn together. As soon as the door closed behind them, Thorin, serious and stern as ever, said to Dori, "Something about that was utterly adorable."

Dori could only nod in agreement.

They found Nori outside the door of the inn. He leaned against the wall with his hands in his pockets and he watched while Bilbo walked to the well. All was in plain view and quiet. Nori had a dreamy look on his face and Dori was so very pleased for him. He put an arm over Nori's shoulder and gave him a hug.

"He took it better than I thought he would,” Nori said. “It's been a rough night for him." Nori turned to look at Thorin and Dori. "It's going to take him a while to get used to the idea, but I think he'll be just fine." He frowned a little. "You have any idea why he'd want one of my old shirts?"

"What?"

"Before he left me here he said that when one of my shirts got too old to wear, he wanted to have it – if it was quite alright with me as he didn't want to cause any offense. As if a worn-out shirt is something to get upset about. Can't think why he'd want it, though." Nori looked back at Bilbo and his face went white. "Where is he?"

Dori turned to look and nearly felt his heart stop. There was the well, lit brightly by a full moon, but there was no hobbit to be seen.

Bilbo was gone.

 

To be continued…


	9. Thorin's Defender

Chapter 9: Thorin's Defender

 

Thorin stared at the town well Bilbo had been standing next to. A horrified voice screamed in his head, ‘He’s gone!’ and that thought ran circles around his mind. He'd lost his hobbit. He'd only known Bilbo was a child for less than an hour before losing him!

Then Thorin gave himself a great shake and let out a deep breath. The sun was setting. The air grew chilled and, somewhere, an owl cried out mournfully.

All at once, just at the moment that owl let out a second call, Thorin snapped back to himself. He said, "Dori, go tell everyone what happened and have them start searching. They all know what dwarf to keep an eye out for." When Dori didn't answer at once, Thorin turned to look at him and saw that Dori had gone quite pale. "Dori?"

"He's… gone. He's just a baby."

"Dori, we need the others…"

"Bilbo… he can't fight. He’s going to get hurt.”

Thorin took a deep breath and snapped, "Dori!"

Dori started and looked at Thorin.

"Go to the inn and tell everyone what happened. Have everyone search the town. Tell them to keep an eye out for that dwarf from the inn. I have an ugly feeling that he's behind this." He waited until Dori had gotten a hold of himself and, after giving Thorin a sharp nod, run back into the inn. Then Thorin turned to say something to Nori, but Nori was already gone. He should have expected that. Of course, Nori would waste no time in going after Bilbo.

Thorin set off at once. He went through every street and alley he came across. The town wasn't terribly large, so he frequently saw others of his company as they all hunted for Bilbo. At long last, he found himself approaching the inn, again, hoping that perhaps Bilbo had returned.

'I should have told Nori to stay right with him. Why didn't I think of that? Bilbo's so young… why didn't I keep a closer eye on him? He's probably gotten lost. He's never been away from home, before. He doesn't know anyone out here except us and doesn't know the customs of humans. I KNOW it was that blasted slug! Even if he didn't lure Bilbo away, then Bilbo was probably still upset by what happened earlier and he ran off to hide; either way, it's the slug’s fault. I should have known this would happen, I should have stopped it. Why can't I do anything right?'

To Thorin's immense relief, he did, in fact, spot Bilbo as soon as the inn came into sight. Unfortunately, he also saw the slug. They stood at the well, some four feet apart, right where Thorin had last seen Bilbo. Thorin felt a chill run down his spine only to be replaced, almost immediately, by a burning fury – hadn't he warned that one to keep a wide berth from Bilbo? Maybe he hadn't been menacing enough. Thorin deliberately set his face in a harsher expression, tensed his shoulders, slipped his hand around the hilt of his sword, and prepared to go out and make a more lasting impression.

"Thorin Oakenshield is a rat."

Thorin froze at the sound of his name to listen for a minute. So long as the slug stayed well out of reach of Bilbo, Thorin felt that it was safe enough to take a moment to satisfy his curiosity.

The other dwarf said to Bilbo, "You don't know what he and his line are capable of. It's in their blood. I've met others who agree with me. It's their line who damned our mountain and forced us into this life of exile. Look, I don't know why you're with them, but it's just not wise. They're the greediest of us all and they'll do anything to get what they want. They're nothing but trouble to anyone who gets involved with them."

Bilbo nervously shifted from furry foot-to-furry foot. He stuffed his hands into the pockets of his coat. "That's just not true! They're very nice people."

"Very nice…? You obviously don't know them. My family came from Erebor and I am the only one left alive. I had family who died from fire, from the mountain crashing down on us. I had family die from the hard journey, from sickness and hunger and the weather. All of that rests on the shoulders of the Durins."

Bilbo stubbornly shook his head. "I’m sorry for your loss, but you’ll have to pardon me for disagreeing. I do believe you're quite wrong. There would be no reason for Thorin to WANT a dragon to destroy his home."

Thorin felt a rush of affection for Bilbo. While the people of his company would never be so heartless to even suggest it, it often saddened Thorin how often people seemed to have the impression that he had somehow called Smaug to Erebor when his life, too, had been thrown into shambles. His mother had died that terrible day. It was heartening to know that Bilbo understood.

The slug snorted. "Reason? Madness infects their line like mold on old bread! They don't need a reason for anything."

"Thorin happens to be very reasonable. He's sensible and clever and always does what's right! Why, he's led us so far from the Shire that I'm sure you wouldn't believe it. No one's been seriously hurt and it's all thanks to Thorin." Bilbo planted his fists on his hips in that adorably defiant manner he had. "And we even made it through a most dreadful encounter with trolls!"

To have such a staunch defender warmed Thorin and he found that he didn't want to correct Bilbo's mistaken opinion, as much as he probably ought to. The part about the trolls was a bit of a fib and he would have to have a stern talk with Bilbo about how good little ones ought to be honest as Thorin knew well enough that it was only thanks to Bilbo and Gandalf that they all got out of that ugly mess alive.

The slug snorted. "You don't know what you're talking about. You don't know the devastation he and his greed will cause."

"Greed?" Bilbo shook his head. "Thorin isn't a bit greedy! He shares his own portion of the food if he thinks anyone is hungry. He gave up his blanket the other night when one of our friends had taken a chill. He'd give a person the shirt off his own back if they needed it! Really! I've known him for a great many weeks and I can assure you that you are entirely wrong about his character."

It nearly had Thorin in tears.

Thorin didn't concern himself with the insulting accusations of the other dwarf. It wasn't the first time Thorin had heard someone drag his name through the mud and it wouldn't be last, he knew. It seemed to be the generally accepted fact among people who didn't know him that he was – somehow – evil and worthless simply because of he bore the name 'Durin'. He'd long ago tired of fighting that battle. He had lost his home and a great many of his family because Smaug had descended upon Erebor to claim the great treasure. He had nearly died and almost lost Balin right before his eyes. He remembered choking on the smoke as his home burned and listening to the cries of terrified children…

Thorin shook himself out of that memory.

Bilbo continued, "Honestly, I really don't know what you're talking about. Thorin is a very good person and he'd never do anything to hurt anyone! I think you're still drunk. Excuse me." Bilbo, obviously uncomfortable being around the other dwarf, turned to leave.

When Bilbo turned, the slug reached out and grabbed his hand.

Thorin tensed and readied himself to rush to the defense, but, before he could, Bilbo snatched his hand away from the slug and slipped out of arm’s reach. Rather than scurry away as Thorin thought he might, Bilbo drew himself up to his full height and gave the slug a scathing lecture on the importance of good manners and why one doesn't just go about grabbing perfect strangers.

"I'll kill him for you." Dori was suddenly at Thorin's side and staring at the slug with hard, implacable eyes. "It will only take a minute."

Thorin did think about it, seriously, but shook his head. "No. We'll be gone in the morning and I've dealt with more than one big-mouth, blowhard who says more than is wise when he drinks. Don’t kill him. I don’t want our journey delayed by questions from the local authorities. But I want Bilbo away from him!"

"Consider it done," Dori replied. "But I do think that cretin would be better off dead. You know it wouldn't be any trouble."

With a gentle nudge, Thorin whispered, "I know you could do it and no one could ever kill half so efficiently, but it doesn't really need to be done so there's no reason to risk getting blood in your fine hair."

Dori smiled, his cheeks puffing up as he blushed at the praise. "Why don't you stay here and relax a bit while I fetch our Bilbo?" He started off with a jaunty step, obviously still glowing from Thorin's admiration.

That was one thing that Thorin never worried about – making Dori blush. Somehow, despite being slow-witted, he never seemed to fail at finding nice things to say to Dori. It was, he suspected, because Dori was so handsome, intelligent, wise, compassionate, gentle, and an all around wonderful person that it was so very easy to think of nice things to say.  
From the shadows, Thorin watched Dori approach little Bilbo and the slug.

They both saw Dori at the same time and Bilbo, smart little thing that he was, swiftly went to stand with Dori while the slug, not as stupid as he seemed, hurried away. At once, Dori put an arm around Bilbo's shoulders, turned him around and started walking back to Thorin. About half-way to Thorin, Dori stopped and pointed out to Bilbo where Thorin waited before he turned around and started walking back in the direction the slug had gone in.

Bilbo's eyes lit up the minute he saw Thorin. "Thorin," Bilbo started as he pointed to where he'd been talking with the slug. "Thorin, that horrid dwarf said the most awful things…"

"I heard and do not care. Where were you?!" Thorin demanded, taking hold of Bilbo's arm. He wasn't about to just let Bilbo wander around anymore! He was barely able to keep himself from yelling. He wasn't angry, not really, but it was as if the relief he felt at having Bilbo safe had made all his anxiety bubble furiously to the surface. He remembered having angry outbursts when Fili had fallen out of a tree and broken his leg, when Kili had been bucked off a pony and gotten his brains rattled, and even when Dis, as a baby, had gotten into Oin's medicines and swallowed a handful of herbs that had nearly killed her. Fear had a way of making Thorin grumpier than usual. It was good that Thorin had Bilbo in his grip as having the lad safely near helped his temper cool remarkably quickly. He took a deep breath and, more calmly, said, "We had everyone searching the whole town for you and we had no idea if you were even alive or dead! Dori panicked; he NEVER panics." Thorin looked back at where Dori had gone, but found the street still empty. Thorin didn't worry. He knew Dori could take care of himself perfectly well and would return to the inn when he was ready.

"I…" Bilbo choked in the face of Thorin's worry and kept his eyes down on his toes. "I'm sorry. I didn’t mean to cause a stir. I need some thread and I saw someone moving around in the tailor's shop so I thought he must stay open late at night." He pointed to a shop near the well where they'd lost sight of Bilbo. He must have just slipped in for a moment before they'd noticed he'd gone missing. He'd gone into a stranger's territory... alone... at night. 

Obviously, Bilbo had the self-preservation instincts of a rock.

"So you just wandered off? For thread?"

Bilbo pulled out from his pocket a spool of thread and held it up for Thorin to see. "I got blue. Nice shade, isn't it?"

It was unbelievable. Even in Kili's most wild days he wouldn't have just left in the middle of the night without telling anyone where he was going. "What got into your head? Do not go alone anywhere. I don't care if you need thread or rope or anything else – you stay with the group." Thorin demanded. While he didn't release Bilbo's arm, he made very sure that he didn't squeeze. Hobbits were so frail. There was almost no muscle on the arm Thorin held.

"I need thread!" Bilbo insisted, his face as hard and determined as it had been during the confrontation with the ranger back at the Shire. "How can I keep things together without thread?"

Thorin had no idea what Bilbo meant by ‘keep things together’ and while he was sure it was important – to Bilbo, at least – he couldn’t bring himself to be concerned about it when the fear of losing Bilbo was still so fresh. "You could have asked someone to go with you. Didn't we just talk about that? What did you think that whole conversation back at the inn was about? We are all willing to look after you!"

"I don't need looking after!" Bilbo started to yank his arm, trying to pull away from Thorin without any success. "I have been taking care of myself for years and I don't suddenly need you following me around and… and telling me what I can and can't do! Why should you if my own family didn't care to…" His voice abruptly trailed away. Bilbo stopped tugging his arm and he looked at Thorin from the corner of his eye. His face was red, as if he were embarrassed and, considering what little Thorin knew of Bilbo's sorry excuse of a family, he didn't blame the poor child for being embarrassed about them. Bilbo’s shoulders tightened. He raised his chin up and met Thorin’s eyes, determinedly. “My family let me take care of myself. Even when I was much younger, my father didn’t care what I did so long as I didn’t embarrass the family. My mother… she…” Bilbo swallowed, hard. “She didn’t care what I did. I am perfectly fine taking care of myself.”

Thorin released his hold on Bilbo's arm and he made an effort to control the tone of his voice. It took him a moment to speak. As was usual, he couldn’t find the right words to soothe Bilbo’s upset. He just couldn’t think of what might be the right thing to say. So he simply said, "I don't care what your relatives did or didn't do. I am telling you - do not wander off. Do not just… disappear. None of us will accept that and we will come for you." He leaned in close to Bilbo and lightly tapped his forehead against Bilbo’s before he pulled away and said, "I will always try to make sure you are safe."

Bilbo's mouth fell open for a moment before he recovered himself. He blinked a few times, and then rubbed his eyes. "Ah. Yes. Really? You would? But I don't think… it's just…" He paused. "Thank you." Then he puffed out his chest. "And I'll take care of you, too."

Thorin fought not to laugh because he knew Bilbo was being perfectly serious. "I feel safer already." He would have to make time to start Bilbo’s swordsmanship lessons. If the lad was going to carry his little knife, best he learn to use it sooner rather than later. Maybe then, Thorin wouldn’t be so worried if Bilbo became separated from the group.

With the atmosphere between them lightened considerably, Bilbo and Thorin began walking the short distance to the inn. Thorin almost started out of his boots when, near the front door of the inn, Bilbo suddenly yelped. His hand fell to his sword, but it was only Nori who’d startled Bilbo by suddenly appearing right in front of him. Nori didn’t so much as acknowledge Thorin’s presence.

“Are you hurt?” Nori demanded. Nori took Bilbo by both arms and looked him up and down to assure himself that Bilbo was uninjured. He circled around Bilbo once before he grumbled, “Don’t you ever do that, again! I was so worried. Where are your brains?! Are you sure you aren’t hurt?” Nori’s instant flips between anger and concern had Bilbo blinking in confusion until Nori abruptly pulled Bilbo in for a fierce hug.

“There, there,” Bilbo said, gently patting Nori on the back. “It’ll be alright. Don’t fuss.” Bilbo slid a glance at Thorin. “I won’t disappear, again. I promise.”

When Nori finally calmed himself enough to release Bilbo, Thorin told Nori, “Go find the others and tell them Bilbo’s been found. We don’t want them out wandering all night if they don’t have to.”

Nori replied, “Go find them yourself.” It was said without an ounce of disrespect.

“What?”

“I’m not leaving him.” Nori put an arm over Bilbo’s shoulder. “He’ll get lost again!”

“I wasn’t lost,” Bilbo protested, though neither Nori nor Thorin took much notice of him.

“I will look after him. I never lost Fili or Kili, did I?”

“There’s a first time for everything.”

Bilbo looked between Nori and Thorin before he suggested, “How about I go find everyone and you two can go back to the room?”

The both of them answered him with a resounding, “No!”

In the end, Nori agreed to find the others, but only after he escorted Bilbo back to their room and Thorin swore to stay with Bilbo. One-by-one, everyone returned to the inn until the only person they still waited for was Dori and, as the night crept on, Thorin began to worry. Finally, the door of the room opened and Dori strolled in.

"You'll have to excuse my tardiness," Dori mildly told the company. "I had business."

The whole room froze at the word. All but Bilbo knew that Dori's business usually ended with corpses.

Slowly, the realization of what Dori said made its way through Thorin's mind. "What?"

Dori tranquilly went to warm his hands by the fire. "I had business. It's done, now. Everything's taken care of. We may want to leave by first light, though." He looked at Thorin with a smug grin, obviously pleased with himself. "Turns out there was a terrible fire on the other side of the town tonight. A certain handsy dwarf and a few of his friends will be found dead in the ashes when the fire is put out."

The idea of the slug being dead didn't trouble Thorin much. That Dori had killed him and his friends wasn’t all that unexpected. The knowledge that Dori had deliberately done something Thorin had asked him not to do… that was bothersome. "I didn't want you to kill him."

"I know. I did what had to be done."

Thorin was stunned. It felt like betrayal. "But I told you not to! I gave no order."

Dori looked at him, astonished. "Do you think orders are my only concern? What I did tonight was done as your betrothed, not as the weapon of my Prince. That person," he spat the word with all the abhorrence a person could cram into one word. "Deserved exactly what he got!"

"I told you not to! I'm used to the contempt of others but as soon as we had left this town, we'd never see him again." It hurt badly to know Dori could so easily disregard Thorin's wishes. "Do you respect me so little that you can ignore me?" He knew most people didn't respect him, but that Dori – his beloved Dori – would act that way was deeply painful.

Dori's eyes flashed. "He threatened your nephews and your sister."

Thorin felt his blood run cold. "What?"

"I heard him tell his friends that ALL the Durin's must die. After I sent Bilbo to you, I followed him to make sure he understood to stay away from Bilbo. At his home he had several cohorts waiting for him. I heard them plotting about you. He’d recognized you when we confronted him at the inn. Their plan was to give you an arrow in the back of the head on our way out of the town. After you were dead, they'd take aim at Fili and Kili and then they spoke about finding Dis."

At the idea of his family being murdered – the bright lights that were his nephews and his amazing sister – Thorin actually went lightheaded for a moment. He’d long ago gotten used to the idea that someone he loved might be felled in battle or by sickness or hunger, but to think that there were people in the world who didn’t even know his nephews and sister and yet made plans to kill them… it was downright terrifying.

"And," Dori continued, his voice tight with controlled outrage. "You can't blame it on alcohol; he wasn't drunk at all. He might have had a drink or two at the inn, but he was steady on his feet with clear eyes and not a hint of confusion in what he said. He wanted your family dead. I am NOT sorry I disobeyed you! I helped raise those boys and I love Dis as dearly as if she were my own sister! I'm glad I killed that toad and his murderous cronies and I'd do it again in a heartbeat!"

"And I'm glad you did, too. I’m very glad they’re dead so they can’t hurt my family, but you still shouldn't ignore me!"

Balin suddenly interjected, "If you're both glad, then maybe you'll stop shouting."

At once, both Dori and Thorin realized that they were, indeed, shouting. They stopped and looked around the room. Ori and Nori looked amused at the spectacle while Fili and Kili looked ready to melt from embarrassment. Everyone else seemed to be trying to discretely find other things to look at. Bilbo watched Dori and Thorin with horror as he clutched onto Balin's sleeve like it was a security blanket.

Dori stomped off to one corner of the room while Thorin went to the other, each one quietly sulking over the argument. From where he sat, Thorin could easily hear Bilbo say to Balin,

"I don't understand. What are they fighting about? Is this my fault? Did Dori really... kill people?"

"Oh, Dori did something Thorin wasn't planning on and unexpected things upset Thorin. Dori's upset because he's worried Thorin doesn't trust him. It's all very silly, of course. No, it's not your fault and, yes, Dori did kill some people. He does that occasionally, it’s nothing to worry about."

Bilbo brought a hand up to his mouth to chew on his thumbnail. "All for stupid thread! I just wanted to start my quilt. I wish I'd never gone out. Do you think they'll stay angry for long?"

Balin smiled, gently. "They've both got a lot of pride and while they do feel a great deal for one another, everyone has disagreements now and again. Why don’t you set up your bedroll near Dwalin and I and give him have a chance to tell you all about how he got that eagle tattoo on his shoulder? I think you’ll like that story." As he spoke, Balin began to walk Bilbo over to where Dwalin stood and it was no surprise to see Dwalin stand a little straighter at the attention, clearly pleased to have a chance to tell one of his favorite stories.

"I don't like fighting," Bilbo told Balin while he did as Balin had suggested and moved his bed roll and bag. "I don't like yelling at all. What if they don't make-up?"

"That's up to them, but I wouldn't worry, lad. They haven't had a bit of trouble they couldn't see their way though, yet. It's just a spat."

As soon as Bilbo and Balin were standing with him, Dwalin nodded his agreement. “They’re stubborn as a pair of dumb mules, but it won’t last. Now, see this?” He sat on the floor to give the much shorter Bilbo a close look at his eagle tattoo. “It took me twelve walnuts, a ruby, and a kiss to…”

Thorin tuned Dwalin out. He’d heard the story. In fact, he’d been involved in part of the escapade and had no wish to remember it.

While Balin and Dwalin were attempting to distract Bilbo and cheer him up, and Bilbo tried to politely pay attention to Dwalin, he did shoot worried glances at Thorin and Dori from time to time. As Dwalin told his tale, Bilbo sat down on the floor and wordlessly pulled his bag onto his lap. He worked at polishing the buckles on the bag until, at last, Dwalin managed to make him laugh and Bilbo was able to concentrate fully on the story.

Thorin felt guilty – about causing Bilbo’s anxiety and making Dori unhappy - and that made him more irritable and prone to snapping at whatever innocent person happened to speak to him. Snapping at people made Thorin feel even worse which made him snap more. It was a terrible cycle that he couldn't seem to break and led to him being left in isolation for the rest of the night as no one wanted to try his temper. Very early the next morning, they started up the path that led into the Misty Mountains and Thorin walked with a heavy heart. He hadn't spoken a single word to Dori since their argument.

 

To be continued…


	10. Matchmaker

Chapter 10: Matchmaker

 

They left payment for their room and board on the bar, then walked as quickly and quietly as they could out of town.

There was, as Dori had promised, a fire in town.

Bilbo's legs were short and he had a hard time keeping up with the others as they hurried to leave before there could be any trouble. Nori gave him no slack and kept him moving. 

Somewhere in the distance, as humans rushed towards the fire, a cry rang out. Bilbo felt his nerves growing more and more tightly wound as their group hurried along. No one seemed to notice them which wasn’t at all unexpected, considering the general chaos the fire had created. As it was a town consisting of wooden buildings, the panic created by any uncontrolled fire was very understandable. In the distance, Bilbo saw a great plume of smoke, just darker than the darkening night sky, rising above the rooftops.

"They'll put it out soon enough," Nori was back at Bilbo's side. "We need to go now. Strangers are never looked kindly upon in this sort of situation. Don’t run. Just keep walking."

Thorin led the way, as always, but stopped at the edge of the town and waited while the rest of the company passed him by. Bilbo could almost imagine a hobbit mother counting her large brood of children to make sure none of them strayed. As Bilbo passed him by, he felt the bizarre urge to reach out for Thorin. The unreasonable fear that Thorin might be left behind made Bilbo's heart jump. He slowed as he approached Thorin, but Thorin just waved at him to keep moving.

They left the town without incident and started up into the Misty Mountains well before dawn. The night was dark enough that Bilbo had trouble seeing and had to rely on Nori to help him not to stumble as all of the dwarves seemed to have excellent night-vision. They didn’t pause even after leaving the city, but stayed on the road that led up into the mountains. The road was crude and narrowed quickly down to a path, but it was clear and well-worn from years of use.

While they walked, Bilbo felt nearly swamped with guilt.

He hadn't meant to make such trouble! It wasn't as if he'd gone out looking for that other dwarf… but he HAD gone looking for thread. He had neglected to tell anyone where he was going – which was sensible enough that any child would have known to do it! – and because he’d been so thoughtless, Dori had killed people and, worst of all calamities, Dori and Thorin were quarreling.

'It's your own fault, Bilbo Baggins,' Bilbo berated himself. 'Shouldn't have just walked away. Whether you meant to make trouble or not, you did it all the same.' 

But how was he to have known that dwarves worried so much more than hobbits? Goodness, he'd only been gone a few minutes. Why, there had been one time back home when he'd gone for a walk and been gone for a fortnight and only his neighbor, Hamfast, had noticed. Gone five minutes with dwarves and everyone flew into a panic. But, that hadn't been entirely terrible. After all, hadn't Thorin been so good as to say he would look after Bilbo? Not that Bilbo needed looking after, mind! He was quite capable of taking care of himself and being with the dwarves had only improved that. He felt quite sure that once he returned to the Shire, he'd be able to take on any challenge without flinching! Still… it had given him a very pleased, warm feeling in the pit of his stomach to hear such concern from Thorin, whom he had come to greatly admire. And that was on top of what the rest of the company had earlier said – that each one of them, from Bifur to Balin, thought of Bilbo as family. He couldn’t have wished for a better group of people to be with.

No one spoke for a good long while, though Nori did warn Bilbo of obstacles Bilbo couldn’t see while keeping a tight hold of his arm. As the night began to give way to daybreak, the pace slowed and everyone was able to catch their breath. Bilbo was utterly exhausted, but he didn’t say anything about it. With the coming of the day, Bilbo was able to see that Thorin, of course, marched at the head of the party with Balin at his side. Dori stayed at the very back of the group and didn't move to walk with Thorin as he normally did.

The whole situation was very distressing.

Walking in the middle of the group, Bilbo looked over his shoulder to where Dori walked at the rear and then up to Thorin's stiff back at the front. He wanted so very badly to please Thorin, to show Thorin that he wasn't just another piece of baggage to be carried along. Obviously, causing such trouble hadn’t impressed Thorin at all. And Dori didn't even notice Bilbo when he tried to wave at Dori to get his attention. Ignored or simply overlooked, Bilbo let his hand drop back to his side and he turned back around.

His eyes felt hot and itchy. His throat felt closed up.

Bilbo pulled out the handkerchief Bofur had lent him back when the whole journey had begun. It was stained, but they were old marks and the fabric itself was clean. He wiped his face with it. He would put that handkerchief into the quilt he would make.

"Here? What's this?" Nori, of course, was still at Bilbo's side and he frowned when he noticed Bilbo's upset.

"Allergies," Bilbo promptly answered. "Must be allergies." He wiped his face again and took a few deep breaths to get a hold of himself. "You don't have to walk with me." If he was going to have some childish fit of self-pity just because he'd gone and done something stupid, he'd rather do it alone, thank you very much. If he'd still been in the Shire and felt overwhelmed by something, he'd have just gone home and locked the door until he could control himself. Under the circumstances, he didn't think anyone would look kindly upon him slipping away for a little privacy, but he just wasn't used to dealing with such a shameful show of emotion in public. He looked over his shoulder, again, at Dori.

Nori's braided eyebrows rose. "Allergies? Didn't even know you had them except for the pony allergy. Well, Oin will have something for that if it gets too bad." He gave Bilbo a sharp-eyed look. "You sure it’s allergies that got your eyes watering?."

"Yes. I’m sure. Of course I’m sure." Bilbo felt sick from guilt and lingering fear that the stranger dwarf might have really killed Thorin and Fili and Kili and gone on to kill that very nice Ms. Dis and if he had, it would have been Bilbo’s fault. After all, he was the one who’d gotten that dwarf’s attention in the first place. “I’m fine, Nori. Just fine.” The last thing he wanted was to be even more the center of attention. He looked over his shoulder at Dori, again. “You don’t think Dori was hurt, do you? When he… ummm… started the fire?”

“You mean when he murdered the little sack of bird droppings and his road apple friends? Naw, Dori’s alright. He’s real good at what he does.”

The group kept walking, though everyone was tired from a sleepless night. The day rose bright and cheery with a crisp breeze. The road leading up into the Misty Mountains wasn't terribly steep, though Balin and Oin both promised that would change soon enough, and as much as he'd grown fond of the ponies during the earlier part of their journey, he did so prefer walking as he could feel the living earth under his feet and it made him feel stronger.

Bilbo waited for either Thorin or Dori to make some attempt to talk to the other, but neither did. Bilbo’s worry for them grew with every step he took. The little spool of thread in his pocket felt unbearably heavy.

While they walked, Bilbo’s thoughts drifted back to the awful moments of the journey. They'd lost the ponies because he couldn't steal them back from the trolls properly. They'd been chased by the horrible orcs and Bilbo had been much too slow to run as fast as everyone else and he was sure that he had slowed them all down. He'd been far too friendly with the elves at Rivendell for Thorin’s taste. No matter how he looked at it, Bilbo had to decide that Gandalf had been altogether wrong – the dwarves would have been better off on their quest with an unlucky thirteen companions rather than having Bilbo tag along.

Bilbo tried to turn his mind to something else, but the first thing that sprang to mind wasn’t a pleasant distraction. Rather, he began to think of what he had to do once he returned to the Shire. He still had to figure out a way to keep his uncle from ransacking Bag End in an attempt to find a will that didn’t exist. No doubt that when he found nothing, Bilbo’s uncle would find some other excuse to rummage around in Bilbo’s belongings. Bilbo didn’t dare to think of the other possibility. If his uncle DID find something… if Bilbo’s mother HAD left a will and Bilbo had simply never found it… what then?

A hand landed on Bilbo's and he looked up to find Nori looking at him. "Right," Nori said. "I'm gonna go have a word with Dori. I'll be back in a bit."

Nori hadn't gone five steps away when Fili took his place at Bilbo side. "Hello. Is Nori smothering you, yet?" His moustache wiggled when he smiled.

"Eh?" Bilbo glanced behind him to where Nori was talking quietly to Dori. "No. No, not at all. Nori's been very pleasant company."

Fili nodded, thoughtfully. "Nori's a good sort. I just thought I'd keep you company and give you someone else to talk to for a bit." Fili had the same air of confidence that surrounded Thorin. Fili was, Bilbo had been reliably assured by several dwarves during their travels together, a fine specimen of a dwarf. He wasn't terribly tall like Kili and Thorin and, especially, Dwalin, but he was sturdy and had a very handsome braided moustache. The idea of face full of hair still struck Bilbo has a touch odd, but the longer he associated with Dwarves, the more he found himself wondering what he might look like with facial hair. He'd often tried to imagine himself with Fili's lovely moustache or Bombur’s remarkable muttonchops.

As quickly as he could, Bilbo pushed his thoughts away from Bombur. It was entirely improper to be sporting such a crush as Bombur was very happily married. Very, very improper and not respectable and… and… gosh, Bombur was handsome.

“Are you feeling alright, Bilbo? You look a bit flushed.”

“Fine! I’m fine. Nothing’s wrong at all.” Bad enough that he had the crush at all, Bilbo certainly didn’t want anyone knowing about it! He frantically thought of something to turn the conversation to. "It was nice of you to come over to chat; I thought Nori was going to be my walking companion until we reached your mountain."

Fili laughed. "So he IS starting to smother you! I think Nori's trying hard to get to know you. He's very enthusiastic. You know about my Uncle Frerin? Well, since he died, it was like Nori lost part of himself. Luckily, he survived. He started training, again, we all thought that he'd just stay with Dori and help in his work to protect Thorin, but now that he's found you I guess he might be a little clingy for a while. He doesn't mean any harm, but if he gets too pushy, talk to Dori or Ori and they'll make him back off to give you room to breathe."

The idea of telling Nori to go away made a cold chill run down Bilbo's spine. He'd been alone for so long. Now that he knew all the dwarves wanted to be his friends (even if Thorin was forever grumpy at Bilbo), Bilbo couldn't stomach asking any of them to keep away from him. He’d never realized how lonely he was until he’d had his dwarves around all the time.

"Nori told me," Bilbo said. "About him being my… um… Dark Hands. Dori told me a bit about all that stuff, too. It seems very important." He remembered sitting on the stairs of the inn after running away from a most confusing conversation with his dwarves in which he'd gone and lost his temper – again – just before his dwarves went and said such very kind things to him. The dwarves' overtures of friendship had been so warm and sincere. He'd had to leave the room before he'd went and got emotional in front of everyone.

Nori had unexpectedly turned up sat on the stairs next to him, and told Bilbo bluntly, that they were connected and always would be. He would be Bilbo's Dark Hands and do any dark deed that needed to be done in order to ensure Bilbo's safety and health. Never mind that Bilbo really didn't need any dark deeds done.

Fili responded to Bilbo with, "The Dark Hands are very important. When Thorin rules Erebor and all the people return Dori will not only be his husband, but he'll also make sure anything Thorin needs will get done. Anyone who threatens him or who plots against his rule or threatens the kingdom will have to deal with Dori.”

“Like that dwarf back at the town?” Bilbo jerked his thumb over his shoulder towards the town that was many hours behind them.

“Just like that. It’s sort of like having a supremely devoted bodyguard. He's been trained to serve Uncle Thorin since he was a very small child. Ori will serve Kili the same way as soon as his training is complete and Nori will do the same for you."

Though he didn't say it, Bilbo thought the whole thing rather silly. After all, Nori would be staying in Erebor with his people while Bilbo would have to go back to the Shire. Though it was only temporary, Bilbo was pleased by Nori's companionship. Nori was fun and told very amusing stories, some that made Bilbo laugh, some that made him blush, and some that made him laugh AND blush and he had to wonder if he'd ever dare to repeat them among hobbits. It would hurt quite a bit when Nori realized he shouldn't waste his time with Bilbo and went off to find a real dwarf to serve.

Bilbo glanced back at Nori, still talking to Dori, and saw how stern and unhappy Dori looked.

"Fili, do you think Thorin and Dori will stay angry for long?"

"Oh," Fili gave waved away Bilbo's concerns. "They'll be just fine."

"That's what Balin said," Bilbo groused, convinced that he was the only one in the group taking the crisis seriously enough. The gravity of the situation was clearly lost on everyone else. "But," Bilbo protested. "It will be a terrible tragedy if they never make up. They're so perfect together and I'm sure they won't ever be happy if they don't make peace. They'll regret the argument and be miserable forever!"

Fili looked surprised at Bilbo's outburst. "No need for fretting. Look, we're all a little worried, but they'll sort it out. Didn't your parents ever have a spat?"

"They didn't have much of a chance. Mother traveled so often; she was hardly ever home. Father didn't fight with anyone; he could talk his way around any conflict and still get what he wanted." Bilbo sighed a little. "I wish I was smart enough to do that."

Fili put an arm over Bilbo’s shoulder and pulled him close to give him a sort of one-armed side hug. "You're plenty smart, Bil."

It was nearly midday when Thorin finally called a halt to their hike. Everyone was tired and needed a rest. The area they settled in was a small clear area beside the path. It wasn’t well-concealed, but the grass was soft and there was a small river nearby for drinking water. Everyone sat and several fell right to sleep.

"How are you holding up?" Nori, who'd long since taken his place back at Bilbo's side, asked.

Bilbo replied, "I'm alright." He liked Nori. For all Nori's vulgar jokes and lazy manner of speech and the wicked sparkle in his eyes just before some clever quip flew out of his mouth, Bilbo liked him.

"Don't you be tellin' me lies, boyo," Nori scolded. "You've been mopey since we left that village. Still upset by that dog's ear that went and put his paws all over you? Or is it that Thorin went off at you for wandering?" He shook a finger at Bilbo. "And it's a good thing he did, 'cause if he hadn't, I would have and Dori might have, too, and he's got a sharp tongue when he gets in a mood."

Bilbo shook his head. "It's not that. Thorin was right to worry, I suppose. I'd get worried if someone just disappeared, too. And I know the rest of you don't like that other dwarf, but, honestly, hair doesn't mean that much to hobbits. I didn't like him touching me, but it wasn't painful or anything. It's just," Bilbo looked at Thorin, then at Dori. Both dwarves stood on opposite sides of the clearing, carefully ignoring the other. "I don't like arguing."

Nori snorted and rolled his eyes. "Don't get yourself worked up. Those two have pride enough to fill the oceans. I'm shocked they haven't bickered before now. Between you and me, living with the two of them… ugg! Two love-struck doves, that's what they are – always cooing at each other. It's sweet enough to give you rotten teeth! All the time making eyes and giving each other these little smiles like they think no one will notice." He leaned in close and whispered to Bilbo, "They're both well old enough to know better, but I keep finding them trying to hold hands when no one is looking! It's like having to mind a couple of youngsters with their first crush! Completely indecent!"

Bilbo had a very hard time imagining Thorin or Dori being indecent. "Is holding hands very bad? In the Shire people do it all the time."

"It's not bad, exactly," Nori explained. "It’s just not done. And believe me, before they were formally betrothed, they did plenty of hand holding along with things I really shouldn’t tell you about."

Bofur strolled up then, his fingers laced behind his head, and gave Nori a teasing look. "Whispering such things to our hobbit? Whatever will Dori say?"

"He'll be too busy making up with Thorin by the end of the day to care about anything I say."

"The end of the day? You're sure about that?"

"Those two can't keep away from each other; it's sickening, but they'll make up sooner rather than later." He pointed to an empty spot near where Ori and Kili were setting up their sleeping spot. Fili had already set his bedroll in place and had started helping Gloin to build a fire. "You put your stuff there, Bilbo. I'm going to grab my bags and I'll be right over." He wandered off with Bofur.

Bilbo wished he had Nori's optimism about Thorin and Dori. He had been silently watching them all the day while they'd been traveling and he saw no sign at all that there would be any reconciliation. They didn't speak or even look at one another. If they'd been hobbits, one of the community elders would have stepped in to help smooth over the hurt feelings so a promising relationship might be saved. But the elder that Thorin and Dori seemed most likely to listen to, Balin, seemed no more concerned about the situation than Nori. Balin chuckled over the two of them as if he were watching two little children having a scuffle over some toy. In fact, no one seemed concerned except Bilbo.

Bilbo narrowed his eyes. If no one else could see the danger of letting hurt feelings fester, he certain could! Thorin and Dori were the perfect match and to have such a couple ruined because of Bilbo's foolishness was not something he could allow.

Determined, Bilbo stood up from where he'd laid out his bedroll and he went to where Thorin, all stern and brooding, sat with his back resting against a tree and his pipe in his hand. Bilbo knew what had to be done and while he wasn't a proper matchmaker, he was determined to mend what he'd broken. So he stood there and waited politely until Thorin roused himself from his thoughts and looked up at Bilbo. When those implacable eyes landed on him, Bilbo felt his nerve dry up like a daisy in a drought.

He suddenly couldn't bring himself to speak with the unexpected fear that Thorin would get angry at him. It wasn't really Bilbo's business, after all, and if Thorin and Dori's families weren't getting involved, then it would surely be horribly rude for Bilbo to stick his oar in the water. So rude that Thorin might yell at him.

"Bilbo? Did you need something?" Thorin didn't sound angry.

"I… ah… yes. You see…" Where had all his words gone? His father would surely have been frowning in disappointment to see Bilbo floundering so pitifully. He steeled himself and said, "I'm really very sorry."

That eyebrow of Thorin's went up, as it always did when he was puzzled or surprised or just wanted to point out how very silly he thought someone was being.

Bilbo was fairly certain Thorin thought he was silly, and he hoped he wasn't making too much of a spectacle of himself, but he pressed on regardless. "I'm very, very sorry that I didn't tell anyone where I was going back at the town. It was quite wrong of me. It was thoughtless to have caused you all such worry. And I won't ever do it, again. I'll never disappear without tell you where I'm going." Just for good measure, to let Thorin know how seriously he took it, Bilbo added, "You have my word as a Baggins of Bag End."

Thorin inhaled from his pipe and let out a long breath of smoke. Then he motioned with his pipe to the ground next to him. "Sit."

Obediently, Bilbo sat. He really didn't want Thorin to be angry. 

Thorin took another puff of his pipe, then rested his hand holding the pipe on his knee while he said, "Thank you for the apology. I expect you to remember your promise and not wander off alone."

"I won't forget," Bilbo nodded his head, quickly.

"Good. All is forgiven."

Bilbo blinked with surprise. That had been a lot easier than he’d expected.

Bilbo looked across the camp. Everyone had settled quickly. With no ponies to care for, there was much less work to do. A small fire had been started and lunch, a modest helping of dried mutton was passed out to everyone. Almost everyone seemed in reasonably good spirits. Ori and Nori sat on either side of Dori, whispering to him while he worked at some knitting, but Fili and Kili were horsing around, some game that involved a good deal of shoving. Considering they were on a quest to find and or kill a dragon and hopefully stay alive, morale was high.

"I wish you had told me your age long before this point," Thorin grumbled.

The change of topic startled Bilbo. He blinked and looked at Thorin with his head turned just to the side, like a curious bird. "Why? What has my age to do with anything? I have been wanting to ask – why did everyone get strange when I mentioned my age back at the inn?"

Thorin shrugged. "We hadn't guessed it."

"But-"

"Here, lad." Bofur was suddenly with them and squatted down in front of Bilbo. "A little toy for you." He held out a tiny carved wooden pony. It was small, but remarkably detailed.

"Oh," Bilbo took the little pony with reverence. To call such a work of art a mere toy just showed how very skilled Bofur was. "It's wonderful! When did you have time to make it?"

"While we were walking. I thought it'd be nice for you to have a little something. You like it?"

"It's… it's just perfect!" He would NOT be sending that to Michel Delving to be added to the Mathom-House with the unwanted gifts. "I'll put it right on the mantle when I go home!" He could just imagine the looks he would get if he were to go around showing off a one-of-a-kind dwarven crafted art piece. If he ever got any visitors, they would surely be very impressed. "I wish I had something so nice to give you."

Kili laughed brightly when he and Fili sat roughly down by Bilbo. Kili elbowed Bilbo. "It's nice, but I liked your troll, too. You should have shown that to everyone before we left your home. Bofur here, he's a master carver, so he'd have really appreciated it." To Bilbo's mortification, Kili looked at Bofur and enthusiastically told him, "Bilbo carved a great statue! It was almost as tall as me and had huge, long ears flopping down onto its shoulders and big eyes and long arms that dragged on the ground."

Bilbo flushed and ducked his head when everyone in the camp turned to look at Kili's boisterous description.

"You're an artist?" Bofur smiled so gently, as he always did. "I'd like to see your work."

"Oh no!" Bilbo protested, suddenly embarrassed and ashamed that Bofur should think any such thing. "I'm not an artist. Not really. I just… I had an idea to try and it wasn't very good but Kili saw it when he was helping me get firewood and… and I'm not an artist." Though he had felt a remarkable satisfaction when he'd been working on it, it certainly wasn't real art. "It wasn't even right. I'd never seen a troll; I'd only ever read about them in books, so it didn't look anything like a real troll."

But Bofur kept smiling. "Still, I'd like to see it." Then, his smile dropped away and he looked down at the ground between his feet. He seemed somehow nervous which was not all like Bofur. He said, in a worrisomely serious tone, "If you like, and you haven't any previous obligations, I could teach you."

The whole group went absolutely silent.

It was a kind offer, but Bilbo just couldn't imagine taking up Bofur's time like that. "Oh… you don't have to. That's quite alright."

Surprisingly, Thorin cleared his throat. "Bofur is an excellent master of his craft. You will find no better."

"Don't press him," Bofur quietly protested. "If he doesn't want to…"

"Oh, but I do!" Bilbo chided himself at the rude outburst. "I just… I'm probably not going to be any good and when I get home, I won't be able to use what you teach me, anyway. My statue… that was just for fun. I'm not allowed to work."

Thorin cough and pounded a fist on his chest to clear his lungs. His pipe smoke must have got to him, Bilbo guessed. Thorin raised an eyebrow at Bilbo. "You're not… allowed to work?"

"No. I'm a gentlehobbit and we're not expected to work. My grandmother nearly had a fit when I was little and asked if I could be a tailor when I grew up." That, Bilbo remembered, had led to a long lecture on why hobbits of his social status didn't do common work - they were meant to manage their lands and the people who worked the lands. "There’s no law saying I can’t work, of course, but if I tried to set up shop and sell wooden carvings I'd made, half my family would drop dead from shock."

"So," Dwalin wrinkled his nose, so completely baffled by the whole idea that he broke his usual silence. "They'd rather you have idle? Just… sitting around doing nothing?"

“I don’t do ‘nothing’,” Bilbo tried to explain. “I have my garden and my home to take care of.”

Thorin grunted. "You may learn as you please while you are in my company."

Bilbo's heart swelled. "Really?" He looked from Thorin to Bofur, "You'd really take the time to teach me?"

"Only if you'd take the time to learn from me." Bofur's eyes began to slowly return to their usual brightness.

"It would be a waste of your time." Bilbo admitted, reluctantly. "I'm probably not going to be any good at it. My troll really was horrible."

Bofur kept smiling. "It's my time to waste. Just you think about it." He stood up and walked back to where his family sat.

"You should consider his offer." Thorin took another puff on his pipe. "A good teacher could change your world." He chuckled. "The smith who made the hinge on your front door could have used a better teacher. One was fine, but one of them was a real mess. Whoever made it ought to be ashamed of themselves."

"Really? Ah… which hinge? The top or bottom one?"

"Bottom."

Bilbo's heart sank. Thorin didn't sound like he was making a jibe at Bilbo's expense and there was no way he could have known that Bilbo had made that hinge. It had been another experiment, just trying something new. He'd been so proud of his hinge, but learning from books could only get one so far. Well… he just wouldn't try blacksmithing, again.  
It was hard to get his mind back on task, but Bilbo had approached Thorin with a plan in mind and as Thorin didn't seem angry, anymore, Bilbo gathered up his courage and asked, "If you've forgiven me, can you stop being angry with Dori, too?"

Thorin sighed. "Bilbo…"

"Because I'm sure he didn't do anything all that bad. It's Dori! He doesn't do bad things! I know he said he killed some people, but if they wanted to kill your whole family, I think they must have deserved it, don't you?"

"I'm not angry that he killed; I'm angry that he went against my wishes and didn't bother to consult me about it. He must think very little of me to just disregard me in such a way." Thorin's shoulders slumped with clear grief. "It's nothing for you to worry over, Bilbo. I'll talk to Dori – later."

Bilbo had absolutely no idea what to say in the face of Thorin's pain. His words completely deserted him.

Abruptly, Bilbo hopped to his feet and scurried over to Dori. "Dori," Bilbo, emboldened by how things had gone with Thorin, sat next to Dori without hesitation. "Do you have a minute?"

"I have several." He gave Bilbo a fond smile. He rolled his head and stretched his back before he waved his brothers away to give them at least a little privacy.

"So," Bilbo folded his hands on his lap. He tried to think of the right words. Tried to decide what the correct question would be that wouldn't cause any offense or pain as it had with Thorin. He struggled with it for several minutes before he opened his mouth and said, "Are you mad at me? About the… you know… you had to kill those people because I…”

“I didn’t kill them because of anything you did.” Dori's face had gone all soft and sympathetic. “I killed them because it needed to be done. Even if you’d decided to stay back at your home in the Shire, I would have still ended up killing them as they threatened Thorin.”

“Really?” It was a vast relief to have that off his shoulders. “Umm… I wanted to ask if you're going to make-up with Thorin. I know you're both cross with each other, but you haven't spoke to each other all day. You're both being very childish; all this could be cleared up with an apology or two."

Dori burst out with a laugh. "Well, looks like I've been told off! Thank you for the concern, but hurt feelings are all the worse when it's done by a person you love and, sometimes, it's better to have a little time apart to work through those hurt feelings."

Bilbo looked up at the clouds. He thought of how often his family members had made comments about him getting married and starting a family. His own grandfather had been starting to make noises about getting the local matchmaker involved. It was all immensely distressing. Though Bilbo had had several crushes on people in the past and he was currently trying to erase the one he had on Bombur, nothing had ever developed into actual love. The idea of getting married and having someone working his kitchen, puttering in his garden, and sleeping in his bed… eww! "Is being in love nice?"

"Oh, you'll find out when you fall for someone." Dori's smile turned sweet and thoughtful. "It may be slow to happen, but some day you'll find someone special and you'll find that you think about them all the time and worry for them and…" He let out a sigh. "Yes, falling in love feels very nice. But, sometimes people upset one another without meaning to, even if they are deeply in love. Excuse me, Bilbo. I need to speak to Thorin."

Dori stood up and strutted across the campsite. He sat wordlessly next to Thorin and nudged him in the ribs with his elbow. Thorin nudged back. They exchanged cautious glances from the corners of their eyes before they both smiled and leaned against each other, all forgiven.

Pleased at how well that had worked out, Bilbo smiled.

 

To be continued…


	11. He Fell

Chapter 11: He Fell

Dori-

Across the clearing, Bilbo was grinning smugly. Dori snuggled against Thorin and couldn't find it in himself to begrudge Bilbo that proud, little smile. If Bilbo was happy to think he'd solved the row between Dori and Thorin, then good for him. The little dear was so rarely happy that he deserved all he could get, especially for a good deed.

Gloin was preparing a bland dinner of that strange elf bread that could fill a person’s belly with only one bite. The taste was like trying to eat tree bark, as far as Dori was concerned. Still, it was filling and that was what they needed. Fili and Kili were arguing about how to best start the camp fire while Bifur looked as if he were restraining himself from simply doing it himself. Nori kept looking over at Dori and Thorin as if he were trying to decide how long to let them be before he interrupted in the name of decency. Really, one would think Nori was the elder brother for all that he tried to keep Dori proper!

Fortunately, Nori seemed happy enough to stay at Bilbo's side and just send Dori disapproving looks for the time being. After a time, Bilbo got to his feet and slowly made his way over to where Bofur lay with his head resting on his bag.

“Well,” Bofur smiled up at Bilbo in his usual genial way. “What can I do for you? If you need a place to rest yourself, take a lay down. The ground here is as soft as it’s going to get.”

“No. It’s not that, but I do thank you. I was thinking about your offer.” Bilbo scratched the back of his head with one hand and his voice grew a little softer as he spoke. “Do you still want to? About the carving, I mean.”

Bofur’s face lit up like a bonfire and he sat up so quickly that his hat nearly fell off. “And here I thought… never mind that! You just sit yourself down right here and we’ll get started.” He patted the patch of moss next to him. He sent a look at Balin after Bilbo sat and said to him, “Nothing formal, of course. No contracts and nothing binding, just me showing my little friend my trade.”

Bilbo scowled. “I am NOT little. I happen to be a perfectly decent height for a hobbit! You dwarves are oversized.”

But Balin nodded his understanding at Bofur. Once they reached somewhere civilized, a proper apprentice contract would be drawn up and witnessed, if Bilbo was willing. Balin, who knew the laws and customs like the back of his hand, was the natural choice for the duty of writing the contract. Every apprentice had a contract. Nori and Ori had contracts with Dori when he’d started their training as well as with their other masters. In bygone times, the contracts were meant to protect the apprentice from being taken advantage of, but there was no danger of that in Bilbo’s case – Bofur would sooner lose a limb than do anything to hurt Bilbo.

“What do you mean about a contract?” Bilbo asked. “It’s only carving. We don’t need a contract for that, do we?”

“Well, lad, we dwarves do so love our contracts,” Bofur said as he dug through his bag and pulled out two small knives that clearly were not meant as weapons. He glanced around and, in arm’s reach, he found a stick which he broke in half and handed half to Bilbo. “Nothing to worry about for now. Here, this is how to you hold the knife.”

Bilbo sent a cautious, questioning look over to Dori and Thorin. Whatever he saw in their expressions eased whatever worry he had, because he turned back to Bofur and listened with rapt attention to his first carving lesson.

Thorin leaned his head closer to Dori and whispered, "He isn't allowed to work."

"Hobbits aren't dwarves. Different people, different customs." Dori reasoned, though he didn't agree with keeping a person from learning a trade if they wanted to learn it anymore than Thorin did.

"I have been thinking.” Thorin lowered his voice to a whisper. “Bilbo will need a place to live once we reach Erebor. The royal apartments will be big enough for all of us and one small hobbit.”

“You’ve given this some thought.”

“I have.”

They watched Bilbo laugh at something Bofur said.

"Everyone would still be family to him, as we’d decided before, but he should have a stable home." Thorin watched Dori out of the corner of his eye. “After this quest is over, after we have our home, we will need to write up a fostering contract for him.”

“You want to make it all legal, then.”

“I don’t want anyone to ever turn up out of the blue and claim that something wasn’t done properly. Balin can write it up so that it lists all of the company as his guardians.”

Dori narrowed his eyes a bit. “Not Nori. He can’t be listed as Bilbo’s guardian.”

“Why not?”

“Nori is all but tripping over himself trying to impress Bilbo; he wouldn’t be able to be an authority figure.”

With the exception of Nori, the idea of having the whole company share parenting duties was an interesting idea. Why not, though? After all, all of the adults in their family group had helped raise the few children they had amongst them after they'd fled the dragon. “There will be details to work out,” Dori warned. “For example: will he have a single room in one person’s apartments or will he travel from family to family as he pleases to have equal time with them?”

Thorin shrugged. “We have time to figure that out. What do you say?" Thorin asked. The slight crinkle at the corner of his eyes told Dori that he was nervous about what reaction his suggestion would bring. "If you… if anyone… don't want to sign such a contract, they don’t have to. If no one else wants to, I will do it alone. I know it isn’t easy to take on a half-grown child, but…”

“Now, don’t get ahead of yourself. You know full well I wouldn’t turn away from him.” Dori looked back at Bilbo where he so adorably frowned in concentration as he tried to mimic Bofur's nimble movements with the little knife as he peeled away tiny splinters of wood from the stick Bofur had given him. "If Bilbo wants to stay, I would be honored to have him as my foster. However, if he doesn't want to stay – if he wants to go back to Hobbiton – what will you do?"

Thorin grumbled. “I hadn’t thought that far ahead.”

“No matter. We have time to think about it.

It would be nice to have Bilbo around, Dori thought. When the quest was done and they were once again in Erebor, Dori would get Bilbo sturdy clothes and work with Balin to plan out lessons. Bilbo was a bright little thing and it would be a shame to skimp on his education. Dori briefly indulged in a fantasy of setting up a room for Bilbo, feeling almost as giddy as an expectant mother arranging a nursery.

A sudden gasp brought Dori out of his daydream.

Bilbo had dropped Bofur's little knife and clutched at his hand.

"Oin," Bofur gently took hold of Bilbo's hand and pulled it away from where he had it cradled against his chest. "Lad's gone and got a little nick." Bofur didn't stop smiling as he examined the wound. "Just a little slice." He relinquished the hand as soon as Oin knelt down next to Bilbo, but gave Bilbo a pat on the back. "Nothing to worry about; everyone gets a little cut or two when they're learning. I've still got a few scars. See – here and here." He held out his hand in front of Bilbo to show off his learning scars, effectively distracting Bilbo while Oin examined the wound.

A little salve and a wrapping and Oin declared Bilbo fit, again.

With the carving lesson over, Bilbo tried to give Bofur back the little knife, but Bofur insisted Bilbo keep it. He would need it to practice, after all. He wouldn't be refused and pressed Bilbo to keep the knife and, in the end, Bilbo accepted, looking thoroughly pleased with the gift.

Bilbo went to sit next to Dori and, from his bag of supplies pulled out the most curious collection of fabric. Dori recognized bits and pieces of clothing from their company. Bilbo sorted through the fabric for a few minutes before he picked two pieces and began sewing them together with a needle and thread he'd had tucked at the bottom of his bag.

"What are you doing?" Thorin asked in that adorably gruff manner he had.

Bilbo started, shot a glance at Thorin, then looked back at his lap where his sewing lay. "Quilting. I'm making a quilt."

Thorin scowled. "You wore quilted clothing at your home." He obviously remembered the multicolored robe Bilbo had been wearing that first night when they'd met him. Thorin had confessed to Dori that it looked like the poor thing was wearing barely held-together rags and Dori had agreed but it looked as if they were both wrong. Quilts were a hobbit thing.

"Yes. I made that dressing gown, too." Bilbo beamed. "I was always proud of that. I thought I'd make a quilt to remind me of all of you when this is all over. I might not be much good at most things, but I'm darned fine at sewing and cooking. Someday, when this is all over, I'll make you a…" his voice faded away. "Oh. When this is over, I suppose you'll get your kingdom set to rights and you'll want dwarf food. I don't know how to make any of that."

"I think we could share some recipes with you," Dori offered, good-naturedly. "And I, for one, quite enjoyed hobbit cooking when we were at your home. Ererbor will be set to rights soon enough. Our own Bombur will be foreman in change of the rebuilding. He is quite a brilliant architect."

"Bombur?" Bilbo looked over to where Bombur sat with Bifur, both talking quietly while examining several small rocks Bifur had found on the ground.

Dori couldn't help but grin when he saw Bilbo turn red. Dori lowered his voice so no one else would hear them. "Are you blushing?"

"No! Of course not!" Bilbo determinedly looked back down at his lap and started working on his quilting. "Of all the things to think! It's just been a very busy day and the sun was hot. Really, the things you dwarves dream up. Blushing indeed!" He, too, had lowered his voice to keep the others from hearing.

"Bombur is a fine example of a dwarf; he's sturdy and hard-working. There's no shame in having a little crush. Why, I think if he knew he'd be flattered."

Bilbo turned panicked eyes on Dori and quietly hissed, "Don't tell!"

With a gentle yank, Dori pulled Bilbo right up beside him and put an arm over his shoulders. He hadn't had a little one to cuddle for a long while. "I won't, but it's perfectly natural."

“But he’s married!” Bilbo hissed. “And I don’t have a crush!” He squirmed under Dori's arm, but made no effort to actually move away. After a moment, he stuffed his sewing back into his bag and huffed at Dori. "I don't want to sew, anymore. You've put me off." He was still red and twitchy when he pulled his pipe out from his bag and his mood wasn't helped any when Thorin reached across Dori and snatched the pipe out of Bilbo's hands. "Hey!" Bilbo objected.

Thorin said nothing, but tucked the pipe away in his bag. Dori heartily approved. Children didn't need to smoke.

"But that's mine!" Bilbo whipped his head around to look at Nori. "Nori! Help!"

But Nori shook his head. "Nope. I will die to defend you against any murderous enemy, but I'm not fighting Thorin for your pipe. If I fight Thorin, I'll have to fight Dori and if I fight Dori, I'll lose. Anyway, smoking's not good for you." He said that last as he pulled out his own pipe and lit it.

Outraged, Bilbo turned back to Thorin and looked as if he were debating the merits of trying to fight for his pipe. In the end, wisdom won out and Bilbo simply crossed his arms over his chest and settled into a pout.

The conversation turned to other things. They spoke of family left behind, about swordsmanship lessons for Bilbo, which Bilbo was hesitant about, and old stories that everyone knew but took comfort in hearing, again. Oin told Dori that he would need more salve for pain and something to prevent infections as his supplies of medicines was running low. Dori agreed to see to it at first light. As his training had necessitated an in-depth education about poisons, he had learned enough of herbs and plants to be able to make the necessary medications for Oin. All-in-all, it was a comfortable, peaceful evening.

Of course they ran into rock giants two days later.

Onward and upward the journey had continued and, well-before they reached the summit of the mountain they were set upon by a storm so terrible that they had to nearly cling to the side of the mountain for fear of falling off the precarious trail. Dori, who stayed just behind Thorin, kept glancing over his shoulders to see that his brothers were faring well. He was pleased to note that each one kept firmly by the side of the person they were meant to be guarding – Ori was right at Kili's heels and Nori actually kept a hand on Bilbo's arm while they walked. It continued on that way for some time until the appearance of the stone giants.

Half their party nearly died.

It was the most horrifying thing Dori had ever lived through, to see Ori and Bilbo and Kili and all the others nearly crushed and being helpless to do anything. Even with his skills, he couldn't fly over the vast expanse and carry them to safety.

But they lived. By some miracle, no one died. The sight of Bilbo clinging like a little tree frog to the side of the mountain, barely hanging on and clearly so terrified that he couldn't even raise his voice to shout for help, nearly did Dori in. He could feel his heart stop for just a moment. Nori threw himself onto his stomach right at the edge of the precipice and reached down to grab Bilbo, but he was barely an inch from being able to grab Bilbo’s hand. Dori saw Nori tense in preparation for going down to get Bilbo and Dori, himself, had taken two steps towards the cliff, but Thorin beat them both. Thorin nearly threw himself over the side of the cliff where he easily scrambled down to Bilbo and pushed him up enough so Nori and Bofur could grab him and pull him up to safety.

The company was overjoyed. There was much cheering and back-slaps as everyone celebrated making it out of that terrible rock battle alive. And then Thorin thundered that Bilbo never should have come with them.

The pain in Bilbo's expression almost broke Dori's heart. Oh, the look on his face was tragic.

They found a cave to shelter in and the moment everyone was safely out of the weather, Dori grabbed Thorin's arm and hauled him to the deepest reaches of the cave for an illusion of privacy. "What was that about?" Dori demanded in a harsh whisper. No matter how angry he was, he wouldn’t want to embarrass Thorin in public. "Are you trying to break his heart? You said you wanted us to keep him. Did you change your mind already? If you're going to be like that with him, I won’t let you sign any contract with him! There was no need to hurt him like that! He didn't do anything wrong! Any one of us might have fallen… eh? Thorin?"

In a most disturbing display, Thorin had started scraping his fingers against the wall of the cave, trying to hurt himself. 

Dori grabbed Thorin’s hand and held it still and safe.

Finally, Thorin looked Dori in the eye and he was frighteningly wide-eyed. "They almost died. Half our party almost died – again! Trolls and wargs and orcs and now rock giants? Bilbo almost fell to his death." Thorin moaned, miserably. "I should have left him in Hobbiton when I thought how child-like he is. I should have sent him back to Rivendell with one of the company when I learned his age. No, I let him follow. I let him tag along and he almost died today." Thorin raised his angry, self-loathing eyes to Dori. "I am a monster to have allowed this. If he dies because of me I will never forgive myself."

"We didn't know his age…"

"But we do now. I should have sent him back the moment he said it! But no, I selfishly kept him because I'd grown so fond of him that I couldn't bear to let him go."

"You said yourself that we'd taken children on dangerous journeys before."

"We had no choice! Now there was a choice. I should have left him with Dis. She adored him and I'm sure he would have easily grown fond of her in very little time. And Kili was nearly killed, too. Ori…" Thorin put his back against the wall and slid down to the floor of the cave. "I am mad for risking all we have."

It was well-known, not only to Dori, but to all of their company that Thorin suffered bouts of self-hatred. Dori firmly blamed Thorin's parents and grandfather, though he kept those thoughts to himself as Thorin loved and respected them all. Knowing all that, Dori looked over his shoulder and saw everyone watching with discreet, concerned little glances at them. They worried for their prince as deeply as he worried for them. The only exception, again, was Bilbo, who hovered near the mouth of the cavern looking small and upset and Dori had no doubt it was because of Thorin's loud, frightened words earlier.

Dori met Balin's eyes and gave a silent nod.

At once Balin got everyone busy with setting up their camp for the night; it was a good distraction to get Bilbo doing something rather than agonize over something Thorin really hadn’t meant.

Dori crouched down in front of Thorin and lightly touched his cheek with just the tips of his fingers, enough to make Thorin look up. "No one is hurt and you protected Bilbo as well as anyone could hope to. I'm afraid Nori will be huffy with you, though. No doubt he was looking to be the one to rush to the rescue, but you acted so quickly, he didn't even have a chance."

With a slow nod, Thorin accepted Dori's words. But the damage was done. Dori looked back to see how Bilbo was doing and saw that even as he hurriedly went about helping to set up camp, he looked absolutely miserable and he was determinedly not looking at Thorin. Bilbo kept as close as he could to Bofur or Balin and when it came time to sleep, he picked a spot as far from Thorin as possible.

Dori would speak to Bilbo in the morning. Give the lad time to rest and calm down from his fright and then he'd get Thorin to apologize for shouting. In the morning he would help the two of them get it all cleared up.

That fine plan would have worked out well if it hadn't been for the goblins.

After tumbling into the goblin's underground city their group was swarmed by goblins. They tried to fight, but the sheer number of goblins had them completely overpowered.

And then Bilbo fell.

He toppled right off the side of the precipice they’d landed on as the goblins swarmed around them like ravenous animals. Bilbo was shoved. He was so small that the goblins didn't even seem to notice him among the dwarves and when the goblins made a grab for the dwarves Bilbo was shoved. Nori made a grab for Bilbo, but it was too late. Bilbo's eyes went very wide. His arms wind-milled at his side. And he fell. In a flash, he was gone and Dori was shoved along with the others, away from where Bilbo had been.

Nori was stricken. His face deathly pale and seemingly insensible to everything and everyone around him, Nori lurched for the edge of the cliff. The goblins wouldn't let him by and while he managed to kill three in his struggle to get to Bilbo, the sheer number of goblins had overwhelmed them.

They were forced to stand before the goblin king. Thorin shouted and Dori had to force himself to put his emotions aside while they were all in danger. It was a learned skill he had, which was fortunate. If he hadn't been able to do such a thing, then he would have surely been out of his mind with grief for Bilbo. He would deal with those emotions later, after they found safety.

"Kill."

The whispered word was so soft that Dori almost missed it. He looked over to Ori, who stood at his side, and wasn't really all that surprised to see his sweet little brother with murder in his eyes. Ori's eyes were half-lidded and his whole body tensed with waiting power.

"Kill," Ori repeated himself, saying it like a dark prayer. He slowly turned to look at Dori. "Let me kill him. Let me get closer. Please. Please."

Dori knew that gleam in Ori's eyes, the twitching of his fingers. Yes. Ori wanted to get within arm's reach of the goblin king because he wanted the chance to get his hands on the foul slug. He wanted to kill the goblin king, to rip him apart with his bare hands. It wouldn't be the first time he'd done such a thing. Ori had always suffered from bone-deep berserker impulse that pushed at him to kill. It was a fault and one that Dori worked hard to teach Ori to control. In order to serve his prince, Ori needed to be able to control himself, not let his rage control him, but Bilbo had been a friend and no threat to any living soul. If there had been only a few goblins, he would have happily let Ori do as he pleased, but there were thousands of them.

"No." Dori seized hold of Ori's arm and squeezed hard, almost hard enough to break the bone. "Too much risk. Guard your prince by staying alive!"

Ori clearly didn't like it. He wanted to fight, wanted to kill. But then he stole a quick look at Kili and backed down. He gave the smallest of nods, barely perceivable, to Dori. He wouldn't push their luck.

But Nori was nearly hyperventilating and shaking on Dori's other side and Dori had to keep a hold of his arm. He didn't dare let go. Nori would take the first chance he had to go after Bilbo, ignoring the goblins and the whole predicament. Dori could hardly blame him – he would have done the same thing if it had been Thorin who had been pushed over the precipice. The only difference was that Dori didn't have a big brother to hold him back.

And then Gandalf appeared and everyone was running and then suddenly they were free in the warm light of day. There was a long moment when no one did anything but breathe.

Ori began to pace the clearing they were in, muttering furiously to himself. He walked circles around Kili, swinging his arms and clenching his fists as he walked. Every few minutes he would pause his give Kili a hug or put a hand against his back or in his hair, and then he started his pacing, again. Working off the rage, Dori knew. He told Kili to sit still and let Ori calm himself. It was the only way. If anyone tried to interfere before Ori was ready, he would get set off, again, and that would be very bad.

Nori took off like a shot. He dashed away from the group and back into the tunnel they'd come from.

Dori cried out, "Nori!"

Without a word, Bofur chased after Nori. Then Dwalin, his face grimly set, started after Bofur. Dori warred with himself about whether to stay with Thorin or go after Nori himself. Not that he didn't trust Bofur and Dwalin, but Nori was his little brother. Ori was still fidgeting so badly and Dori needed to stay in case Ori couldn't calm himself and ended up needing help.

Almost immediately, Bofur and Dwalin dragged Nori out of the tunnel, struggling and fighting, though clearly trying not to hurt them. That was a good sign. If he had wanted to hurt them he wouldn't have failed and that he wasn't trying showed that he was at least aware enough to recognize his friends. Nori wildly kept screaming, "Let me go! Let me go!"

They hauled Nori straight to Dori and retreated as soon as Dori had his hands on Nori and pulled him in for a hug, though Bofur didn't retreat very far.

Nori struggled to get away from Dori. "He's down there! He's down there and he's alone and I ran! I ran from him! I have to get him!"

"No. No. You need to stay with me. Stay with me and think and be sensible. I know it's hard, but you can do this. One of us alone can do nothing against thousands of goblins." He patted Nori's face as he spoke, stroking his hands over Nori's hair as he would a cat. In few moments, Nori’s struggles and yelling calmed and he allowed Dori to hold him. It was near impossible to stay composed for Nori's sake. Dori wanted to burst into tears for Bilbo. The chances of Bilbo having survived the fall… surviving the goblins… Dori's chest and throat tightened up. His hands were shaking. Dori wouldn’t ask the others to risk their lives, but he was going after Bilbo. Even if he did nothing but bring back a broken little body, he could at least see that a decent funeral was held. He looked over Nori's shoulder at Thorin where he stood near the mouth of the tunnel. "Thorin…"

Thorin's hand clenched around the hilt of Orcrist. He stared into the darkness of the tunnel. Thorin's lips pressed together in a thin line as he thought, clearly having a hard time controlling his temper. Finally, he burst out, "Balin! I need a plan!"

But before Balin could say a single word, Bilbo was back with them. Just, there, as if he'd appeared out of nowhere. They stared at Bilbo, disheveled and sweaty and a bit shaky, but whole and mostly uninjured.

Nori fussed, as was to be expected. He looked Bilbo up and down and circled around him, looking for any threatening wounds. There were none. Bilbo tolerantly stood still while Nori satisfied himself and, when Nori was done, he wrapped Bilbo in his arms and held him tightly.

"Don't you ever do that to me, again! You promised you wouldn’t disappear, again!" Nori took Bilbo by the shoulders and gave him a shake. "I thought you were dead. I thought I watched you die and there was nothing I could do to stop it. I can't do that, again. Just like Frerin…"

Then the orcs came.

 

To be continued…


	12. Fostering

Chapter 12: Fostering

 

After the company had been rescued from the orcs by the flock of immense eagles and carried away to safety, after the eagles had left them and Gandalf had healed Thorin’s wounds, the whole company stood in silence and stared at the far-off sight of Erebor. The peak of the great mountain, the only part of it that was visible above the clouds, was only a tiny glimpse of the mountain.

Bilbo inched closer to the cliff edge and looked down. He turned rather green, then looked up at Dwalin, who stood next to him. “Why didn’t the eagles put us down on the ground?”

“I expect,” Bofur interrupted whatever Dwalin might have said. “That they meant for us to be trapped up here.”

“But why?” Bilbo frowned in confusion. “They only just rescued us.”

Bofur shrugged and kept grinning. “Rescued? I think they might have put us up here for safe-keeping. They’ll come back when they get hungry.”

It took a moment for Bilbo to realize what Bofur meant, but when he did, the revulsion on his face was almost comical. “That isn’t funny!”

“I should think not,” Bofur answered, mildly. “Come all this long way only for us all to end up as bird food? I don’t much like that. What say we get ourselves away from here. See? Out there?” Bofur gestured out towards Erebor, but down. “See that great forest? That’s Mirkwood. I’ve heard some nasty stories about that place.”

“None of which we need to hear, Bofur.” Bombur’s quiet admonishment silenced Bofur at once. “But we shouldn’t stay here.”

“Quite right,” Balin agreed. “It’s high time for us to be on our way. Thorin? Can you climb?”

“I will manage.” Despite Gandalf’s help, Thorin still sore and tired, but as he knew everyone else was, too, he said nothing about it.

Balin patted Thorin on the arm, sympathetically. “You go slow. We’ll meet your pace, today, so take whatever time you need. The trip down will not be easy. Bilbo, you make sure you keep close to Nori; we don’t want you to have a nasty accident if you slip.” Before Bilbo could argue, which he looked like he wanted to do, Balin added, “I know you don’t want to be looked after, but this is for the best. Trust me, won’t you? Be thankful I don’t have any rope, or I’d be tying you off to Dwalin to keep you from falling.”

“If he falls,” Dwalin grumbled. “I’ll catch him.”

So, down they all went. Dwalin went first, then Thorin and Dori and then all the others. Bilbo, though he grumbled about not needing to be taken care of, did stay near Nori as they climbed. “I DID just save Thorin from that awful orc, you know. I can handle climbing down a cliff.” He groused at Balin, who was below him as they climbed. But Balin ignored him, as he often did when he thought people were being silly.

The climb down was slow and, for Thorin, painful. He did his best not to let on, because they needed to get down and no one needed to hear him whining about a few little injuries. After all, Gandalf had healed him and there wasn’t anything really wrong with him. It was only a couple of warg bites and a little blunt force trauma.

Everyone had injuries. 

Ori, even after the desperate flight from the goblins and then the ordeal with Azog, was still nearly vibrating with pent up energy. Poor Ori. While having blood lust was often a boon in battle, it could be maddening when one wasn't allowed to use it. Ori was twitchy and anxious, but thankfully, he was a dwarf and that meant he, like all the others, was able to easily keep a good grip on the rocks. He would rush ahead of everyone, right down the rocky slope, then climb back up to them. He said nothing, just went to Kili, touched his face or arms to reassure himself that Kili was alright, and resumed his endless climbing up and down with such speed that Thorin feared he might hurt himself.

"Best let him do as he wishes," Dori advised, quietly. "He needs to use the energy and it's better that he's climbing than trying to wrestle Dwalin on the side of a cliff." He wasn't a bit surprised by Ori's behavior. They'd all known Ori was a berserker since his twentieth birthday when he'd tried to rip off the ears of a bully who'd thought it would be great fun to push Kili into a mud puddle. Normally, Ori controlled his more savage impulses quite well, but recent circumstances would test anyone. The fact that he'd been able to restrain himself from attacking the goblin king was a testament to Dori's excellent teaching. 

Ori wasn’t the only one injured. There were scratches and bruises and blood for all the company. Everyone was quiet as they climbed, but for Nori advising Bilbo about where the next good foot or hand hold was. 

Thorin's foot slipped on a loose stone and, while he did manage to catch himself, the jolt of it sent a shock of pain from the wound Azog had given him right up through to his head. He took a deep breath and kept moving.

"Are you alright?" Dori obligingly asked.

"Fine. I'm fine." It was embarrassing to feel so helpless… so weak. "Why don't you go help someone who needs it?"

"Don't start growling at me." Dori's tone was mild and he stayed right with Thorin as they continued down.

Eventually, they reached the bottom and were on solid, flat ground. Everyone stopped to rest. It wasn't a proper camp as they had no supplies at all to make a camp with. But everyone sat down and let Oin take a look at their wounds. Even if he had no medicines or even bandages, just letting Oin inspect everyone did an excellent job of calming him down. Poor Oin always got fidgety when he thought someone might be hurt.

Thorin leaned his back against a large stone and tried to think about their next move, but he really just wanted to lay down and sleep. He was so tired. He was hungry and thirsty. There was no food or water, though. The immense grassland spread out around them for miles and Thorin had no comfort at all to offer his people.

"I've lost my quilt."

Thorin turned his head and found that Bilbo, dirty and exhausted, had sat next to him. His knees were pulled up to his chest and his arms wrapped around his legs, leaving Bilbo huddled in a little ball of perfect misery.

"It's still down with the goblins." Bilbo pitifully put his forehead on his knees. "I'll never finish it, now."

"You could make another," Thorin suggested.

But Bilbo shook his head. "It wouldn't be the same."

Dori sat next to Bilbo and slipped an arm around Bilbo to give him a little squeeze. As Bilbo tended to do when someone gave him an affectionate touch, he stiffened for a moment, but then he relaxed against Dori and the little frown he'd had when he mentioned his quilt eased in a shy, pleased smile. It was good. Bilbo seemed to be growing easier with affection as he spent more time with the dwarves.

"Bilbo," Dori gently said. "Another quilt won't be the same, but that's not necessarily a bad thing, is it? I'm sure everyone will be happy to give you another piece of cloth." He gave a wink. "And this time you won't have to sneak them."

Bilbo stiffened and pulled away from Dori. "I'm not sneakin'! I'm not… I didn't!" He seemed unduly horrified to be accused of sneaking. "I didn't sneak anything; it was all stuff no one wanted. Honestly."

"Alright, then. I’m sorry for the poor word choice. Settle down and rest."

Bilbo did as he was told, though his hand went to the pocket of his waist coat and clutched at it almost convulsively. He looked over to where Bofur was talking to his brother and cousin. Quietly, Bilbo looked up at Dori and said, "I also lost my rabbit. The rabbit Bofur was teaching me to carve. Do you think he'll be very cross?"

"Not a bit." Dori shook his head. "We lost nearly everything in those caverns. He won't be at all surprised that your little carving is gone, too. Besides, is Bofur ever angry?"

"He might be about this. He is very proud of his carving." Bilbo touched his lips with his thumb, but didn't try to chew his thumbnail. "I don't want him to be angry and decide he doesn't want to teach me because I'm not responsible enough. I always try to be responsible and respectable."

The idea that Bofur would stop teaching Bilbo because Bilbo hadn't been able to hang onto his pack in the middle of a goblin attack was absolutely absurd. Bofur wouldn't stop teaching Bilbo for the world. Thorin said, "Bilbo, dwarves take our crafts, and teaching those crafts, very seriously." He had meant it to be reassuring, to let Bilbo know that Bofur wouldn't just abandon him, but Bilbo cringed and Thorin knew he'd messed it up, again.

Dori said, "Thorin means that Bofur takes his teaching seriously enough that he won't stop just because the goblins made you lose your work."

Bilbo looked much reassured and Thorin knew he should have let Dori explain in the first place.

Ori suddenly collapsed. He fell without warning, right flat on his face. Kili squawked in alarm and quickly rolled Ori onto his back.

Dori sighed, relieved. "Finally. He crashes so hard when he gets worked up."

"Is that normal?" Bilbo asked, worriedly.

"Oh, yes." Dori didn't even bother to go check on Ori. Instead, he chuckled fondly. "The poor thing will wake up with a beard full of dirt and he'll be sulky, but a good rest is just what he needs right now. We'll be here until he wakes up unless someone is feeling up to carrying him. And you," Dori pulled Bilbo back close to him after snagging hold of Bilbo's arm. "Need to relax for a bit and try to sleep."

"I can't sleep. There are eyes in the darkness."

Thorin looked sharply at Bilbo. "What eyes?"

Bilbo wouldn't look at Thorin and kept clutching at his waistcoat pocket. "When I fell there was an underground pond and… and there were eyes in the darkness. I suppose it was a person… of sorts." Bilbo shuddered at the memory. "Those eyes were terrible, huge and pale as milk. I think it wanted to eat me and I had to trick it in order to escape."

Anger and fear made Thorin grind his teeth. Thank goodness Bilbo had escaped that thing – whatever it had been.

"I should be doing something," Bilbo went on, after a moment. "I don't like just sitting. I want to clean something. There's nothing to clean. I’ve even lost my buttons so I can’t polish them."

Thorin longed to be able to do something for Bilbo to make him feel better, but he just didn't know what do to. He couldn't think of anything that would be remotely useful. So, he suggested the only thing he could think of. "Take out your sword."

Bilbo looked puzzled, but did as he was told.

"You need to keep your sword clean. It's very important. Let me show you." And Thorin pulled a small rag from one of his pockets and demonstrated to Bilbo how to keep his dainty little sword clean. He sat back and watched when Bilbo showed he could do it.

For nearly an hour, Bilbo intently cleaned his sword, frowning in concentration the whole time. He worked in complete silence and, as he did, Thorin noticed the tension ease out of Bilbo's stiff shoulders. Finally, Bilbo stopped. He let out of a deep breath and gave Thorin a shy smile as he handed back the little cleaning rag. "Thank you, Thorin."

Thorin would have to teach Bilbo how to use his sword, soon. If he was going to have it, he needed to know how to use it. While Thorin knew he wasn't smart enough to teach much, he certainly could teach Bilbo how to use a sword.

Later-

Gandalf was taking them to shelter at the home of his friend.

Thorin and his company followed Gandalf through the grassland and they were more than half-way there when they came upon a fine little spot near a small, shallow river and a stand of a few scraggly trees. It was a good place to rest and they couldn’t ignore the water. The grassland was filled with small game and with everyone’s efforts, they dined well on rabbits, birds, and whatever else they could bring down, but water had been harder to come by.

After everyone had slacked their thirst at the little river, Dori decided it was time that he use the relative peace to get some practice. Everyone in the company, but for Gandalf, who'd found something more interesting to focus on, watched while Dori stripped off his shirt before he took himself apart from the rest of them and began a routine of movements designed to mimic a battle. It was a magnificent display of flips, spins, strikes, and kicks that he could use in the event of a battle where he had no weapon to use.

Thorin had seen it before, but it never got old. The movements were graceful… elegant… and Dori without a shirt was lovely.

"It's very impressive," Bilbo, standing at Thorin's side, beamed at Dori's deadly display. "I've never seen a dance like that."

"Dance?"

"Yes. Hobbits do a lot of dancing at parties, but I've never seen anything like that. It really is beautiful."

Thorin had no idea what to say to that, so he kept quiet.

Bilbo asked, “Did he have to take his shirt off?”

“No,” Nori answered with a snicker. “He just likes making Thorin’s blood pressure rise.”

Thorin aimed a cuff at Nori but, of course, missed and Nori moved away to stand with Ori while they watched Dori’s work out.

Bilbo seemed content enough to stand by Thorin and watch as Dori's routine went on and on until sweat dripped down his face. Nori and Ori watched Dori intently – it was part of their training. It was good, for their own sakes, that Ori had recovered from teetering on the brink of a berserker rage and Nori finally seemed to have gotten over the newness of his relationship with Bilbo to concentrate on the lessons. If they weren't able to concentrate, Dori would be far from pleased. Soon enough, Dori called for his brothers to join him.

The spectacle of the three of them was amazing, but something Thorin had seen quite often throughout his life. So he turned to Bilbo and said, "When he's finished, I would like to speak with you and Dori." 

"Did I do something wrong, again? Is this about the Orc?" Bilbo straightened his back and belligerently – or as belligerently as he could – said, "I'd do it again. I'm not sorry. It had to be done; I couldn't just stand around and watch you get killed. I couldn't." His voice dropped a little at the end and he looked down at his feet. Very softly, almost whispering, Bilbo said, "I watched my father die. There was nothing I could do to help. He was so very sick, but I can't watch someone die and do nothing – not again. Never again."

Bilbo rarely spoke about his parents and Thorin felt honored by the vulnerable honesty. "There is no trouble and I am not angry about anything. I just wanted to talk." He berated himself for upsetting the lad. He couldn't even say such a simple thing without doing it wrong and distressing Bilbo with painful thoughts. Stupid Thorin.

Thorin used his time to lay down and rest, only opening his eyes when he realized the practice was over. Soon, Dori, still shirtless, which Thorin was very pleased to see, walked over to him with Bilbo happily trotting along at his side.

"How did it go with your brothers?" Thorin sat up when Dori sat next to him, Bilbo right with him. It was a comfort for Thorin to see how close Bilbo was quickly growing to Dori.

Dori shrugged, which sent all the muscles in his shoulders and chest, normally hidden under his unassuming clothes, rippling. It was a lovely sight. "Oh, you would think they'd never had a day of training in their lives, the way they carry on about a few little bumps and bruises. They didn’t fuss so much after the goblins or the orcs!"

"What happened?"

Bilbo piped up, "Dori threw Ori into a tree and tossed Nori right into the river!" He said it with a delighted smile. "He's so strong!"

"Yes, he is," Thorin agreed. "Why did they deserve that?"

Dori made a 'hrump' sort of sound and sniffed. "Ori was showing off for Kili – as always! – and Nori still has half his brain focused on this one," he jerked his thumb at Bilbo. "And kept looking over to check on him."

Bilbo blinked with surprise. "He was? I didn't notice. I didn’t meant to distract him. Oh, poor Nori."

"Poor Nori, indeed. Bah!" Dori answered. "They both know better than to indulge in that sort of foolishness. It's dangerous work we do; there's no excuse for messing about." Dori carefully folded up his shirt and set it on his lap, clearly having no intention of putting it back on. Then he gave Thorin a serious look. "You wanted to talk?"

"I thought we might talk about fostering."

Dori smiled brightly and reached over to pat Bilbo's shoulder. "A splendid idea. High time we all spoke about this."

"About what?" Bilbo looked from one to the other with confusion. "What's 'fostering'?"

Dori said, "Fostering is when someone who hasn’t got a family of their own is welcomed into another family. We would like you to join our family. We would like to foster you." There was something sweetly hopeful in Dori's voice and Thorin had to fight to keep his behavior proper and not reach over to take Dori's hand as he wanted to.

"But," Bilbo hesitantly said. "You all said I was already like family – to everyone here."

"And you are. This fostering would include everyone here.” A quick look around the group showed that everyone was paying attention, though they made an effort to be discreet. “I have discussed this at length with everyone, after having someone distract you, and they all agree. A fostering will be a formal, legal agreement to recognize you as part of everyone’s family and that agreement will be as binding as any relation of blood.”

Bilbo looked down at his lap. "Really? You really want to do this? What about after the quest – if the dragon doesn't roast us, I mean."

"Well, you would stay with us in Erebor, of course."

Thorin nervously watched Bilbo. He could think of no good reason why Bilbo would want to return to The Shire, but children were sometimes odd.

"I… You want me to stay in Erebor? I'm allowed?"

"Yes," Thorin answered at once. "You are very welcomed to stay. Always."

Bilbo squirmed. "Really? You really want me to stay? Because you don't have to; I have a very nice home. In fact, it's an excellent home. My father had it built. I don't have to stay in Erebor." He started to frown and his wiggling stopped abruptly. His shoulders slumped. "In fact… I shouldn't. Father always said a Baggins should live in Bag End. He might not like it if I just left."

Thorin asked, "Wouldn't your father want you to be happy, no matter where you lived?"

The fact that Bilbo didn't answer straight away made little alarm bells ring in Thorin's mind.

Slowly, Bilbo looked up and cautiously looked from Dori to Thorin. "May I think about it for a little while?"

"Of course," Dori told him. "There's no deadline. But, remember – we didn't ask you because we had to. We asked you because we wanted to. We want you to stay with us."

Bilbo's hands were shaking and he looked like he might cry. "Oh? Yes? Well… that's just… really? Really. But… but…" He stopped babbling, then and went still, though his fingers kept twitching where they sat on his lap, as if he couldn't control them.

With so much agitation building inside the little hobbit, Thorin decided that it was time to change the subject. They would convince Bilbo of the wisdom of staying in Erebor, later, when he was calm. Thorin slapped his thigh and stood up. "I think it is time to wash."

"Wash?" Bilbo asked.

"Yes. We haven't been able to properly wash in a good long while and everyone is getting a bit ripe." In fact, Thorin realized, he had the shabbiest looking bunch of dwarves that had ever been seen. Should anyone catch sight of them, they certainly wouldn't look like a band of adventurers on a noble quest. Rather, they would be judged to be ruffians skulking about on some nefarious purpose. "We have a good river that will serve very well."

Everyone was called together and their precious bar of soap was produced from Balin's pocket. Once at the river bank, they all took to washing with great eagerness.  
Kili was, of course, the first dwarf in the water. The others followed at a slightly more sedated pace and until Thorin was the last dwarf on dry land. For a moment, he stood by the river and observed his people. People scrubbed at their arms and legs. Everyone's hair was loose, having been freed from their braids for a long-needed wash. It was a jolly time for all.

Bilbo watched the dwarves from the riverbank rather than joining them.

"Do hobbits have difficulty with water?" Thorin asked.

Slightly distracted, Bilbo said, "No. Not particularly." He flushed and kept his eyes on his feet. "I just supposed that I might wait until everyone was finished before going in."

As bathing was considered a communal affair with dwarves, bathing alone would only be done if there truly was no choice in the matter. Often, the most disreputable of society would find themselves bathing alone because no one would deign to join them.

"There is no point in waiting. Join us." Thorin undressed, then, but found that Bilbo hadn’t moved when he looked back at him. "What are you waiting for?"

"As a general rule," Bilbo said in a strangely choked voice. "Hobbits bathe alone."

"Hobbits have strange customs," Thorin huffed, not in the least bit interested in hobbit's strange way of raising children. "Get in the water. You smell just like the rest of us."

It took some time before Bilbo was able to join them and when he did, still flushed and shy, he kept a distance away from the group and seemed intent on simply washing as quickly as he could, presumably so that he could get out and get dressed quickly, too. Naturally, neither Kili nor Fili would have any of that.

The sneak attack was only a surprise to Bilbo who had been too intent on washing quickly to notice the brothers creeping towards him. With a squawk of surprise, Bilbo was grabbed and hauled into slightly deeper water where Kili took great pleasure in dunking him. Bilbo came back up, gasping for air and spluttered at Kili. It took only a moment for Bilbo to lunge after him and try to dunk him in return. After a moment, all of the younger members of the party were happily playing and splashing, much to the amusement of their elders.  
In the meanwhile, Thorin set about cleaning himself and when that was done, he retrieved a comb from one of his coat's many pockets. The comb was a rather sad sight and needed to be replaced, but it would do for the interim. Balin silently went to Thorin and sat down in front of him. It was soothing to just take the time to comb out Balin's long hair.

One-by-one the elders of their group got out of the water and dried themselves. Sadly, Thorin's comb was the only one that hadn't been lost. They all shared that comb, each person combing the hair of a relative or friend until everyone was done and the three younger ones dragged their exhausted selves out of the water.

Bilbo still seemed oddly shy and hurried to dress himself even while Fili and Kili, still wet and bare, started doing their own hair. Fili sat still while Kili combed Fili’s hair and retied his braids and then they changed places. Once Kili’s hair was finished, Kili looked over his shoulder at Fili and held out his hand. "Gimme."

With a tolerant smile, Fili handed over the comb.

Kili rushed to where Bilbo sat near the fire. "I'll tidy your hair, Bilbo!" Kili cheerfully offered, waving the comb in the air.

Bilbo looked surprised at the offer. "Oh, thank you, but there's no need. It's really not worth any effort." He combed both hands through his curls and shook his head. "There. Done."

Kili's shoulders slumped. "You… you don't want me to comb your hair?" He looked as if he might cry.

"It's not that I don't want you to do it, but it's not really necessary. I keep my hair short, so it's no bother to look after." Bilbo looked up at the clouds with a wistful expression. "Now that I think about it, my mother was the last person to brush my hair. I was such a little thing back then." He touched his hair, again. "It's getting long, though. I'll have to cut it, soon."

Bilbo's mother had been dead for years, Thorin recalled. So he hadn't had his hair tended by anyone in years? It was almost too sad to think about.

Fili came to a tactful rescue. "In dwarven society," he told Bilbo. "It's rather a custom for friends and relations to tend each other's hair. Kili had really been hoping that you trusted him enough to let him do that for you."

Bilbo blinked, then smiled and gave Kili a pat on the head. "I didn't know it meant so much to you. Go ahead, then. If it makes you happy."

If Bilbo saw the pleased looks that the older dwarves shared between themselves, he didn't show it.

Thorin enjoyed the domestic moment and watched his nephews and Bilbo together. It was all so peaceful and he wished Dis could be with them to share the moment. He wondered how she fared in The Shire and how the hobbits treated their people. 

No matter how pleasant the brief moment was, Thorin knew it wouldn't last. Mirkwood grew closer by the day.

 

To be continued…


	13. Beorn's Garden

Chapter 13: Beorn’s Garden

 

Beorn had been more than generous when confronted with unasked for guests. He’d fed them well, so well that even Bilbo’s dwarves hadn’t complained about a lack of meat at the table. There had been bread and jam and honey. There had been pitchers of fresh milk. To Bilbo’s great delight, there had even been blackberries and cream for dessert.

The whole house was gigantic, far too big for Bilbo’s comfort, but it was safe and warm and they were given places to sleep after their feast. Bilbo’s stomach had been so nicely full that he’d fallen asleep immediately when he’d found a spot in the hay to his liking.

Asleep on his pile of straw, Bilbo dreamed of home.

His home had been ransacked. Every piece of furniture overturned, every drawer opened and emptied out onto the floor. There were hobbits in his home, roaming everywhere. Every door was open, every room made a horrifying mess as they searched. In the middle of that chaos, as his family searched for the will his mother might have written, Bilbo stood helpless and shocked. Someone had emptied his mother’s glory box onto the floor. There was noise and confusion and yelling and no one paid Bilbo any attention… Then there were dwarves all around. Everyone was singing and laughing and Bilbo listened while Balin told a story that involved a great deal of arm waving. The camp fire they all sat around crackled and the stars overhead glittered merrily. A dragon was circling, but Bilbo didn’t care. He was perfectly happy with his dwarves.

A fiery eye began to open.

Bilbo woke abruptly. His breath was lodged in his throat and he had to concentrate in order to force himself to take a breath. For a moment, in the darkness, he could almost see that terrible, flaming eye began to creeping open. It felt as if something big, something bigger than Bilbo could even imagine, had woken.

“Just a dream,” Bilbo told himself. “Just a silly dream.”

The dwarves still slept. A look through the window showed Bilbo that it was still night and he guessed that dawn was many hours away, yet. But he wouldn’t sleep right away with such a dream fresh on his mind. So he stood up. Thankfully, there was enough moonlight for Bilbo to see and he could make out the shadowy figures of his dwarves all sleeping around him. Everyone slept deeply and the snoring was nearly as loud as a distant roll of thunder. Carefully, Bilbo walked around and stepped over his dwarves as he made his way out of the room they’d been lent. It was something like a barn, Bilbo realized and, most likely, it was normally to house all of Beorn’s animals. This barn, like many in the Shire, was connect to the main house and Bilbo made his way to the door that would let him back to the room where they’d all eaten earlier. With luck, he’d find leftovers.

When he’d nearly reached the door, Bilbo froze in his step. There, at his feet, slept Thorin. Thorin didn’t snore as loudly as some of the others, but he was clearly very sound asleep. Thorin’s bag, unlike Bilbo’s, hadn’t been lost and that was very good as it held the map and the key that would get them into Erebor when they reached it. That bag also held Bilbo’s pipe.

Wide eyes narrowed as Bilbo considered how deeply Thorin was sleep, how Thorin had rolled to the side and his head was nearly off his bag, and how very much he wanted his pipe. Slowly, Bilbo knelt next to Thorin. He very slowly slipped his hand into Thorin’s bag. He felt the cold metal of the key and the heavy velum the map had been drawn on. Finally, after a very few minutes that felt entirely too long as Bilbo half-expected Thorin to spring awake at any moment, Bilbo’s fingers brushed against something smooth and wooden. Thorin’s pipe was artistically engraved, not smooth like Bilbo’s. He smiled in the darkness and curled his fingers around the stem of his pipe before he pulled it out. Of course, he didn’t have anything to smoke, but just the fact that he’d managed to filch it from Throin, almost literally right out from under Thorin’s nose, pleased Bilbo immensely. Maybe he could steal from a dragon, after all.

The dining hall had been almost completely cleared. There wasn’t a crumb of food to be found and Bilbo resisted the urge to prowl around for some. It was one thing to steal his own pipe back from Thorin, but it was entirely different to steal food from their very kind host. However, Bilbo did find the pitcher of mead still on the table. He crawled up onto the bench and then up onto the table. It was horrid manners and he hoped no one would ever find out he’d walked on a table, but there was no other way for him to reach it and he’d wanted a drink since they’d arrived and one of Beorn’s dogs had put the mead on the table. Everyone else had gotten a drink but when the pitcher was passed around, it kept missing Bilbo. They’d passed it right around him. As much as he’d enjoyed the milk, he hadn’t had a drop of anything stronger since he’d left the Shire. The pitcher was less than half-full, so Bilbo took the whole thing and carried it, along with his pipe, out to the front porch.

The front porch was really just a step, but it was high enough that Bilbo was able to sit on the edge and swing his legs. He took a few sips of the mead and admired the night. Even at night, under the moon’s pale glow, Beorn’s garden was a splendid thing. While the elves at Rivendell had a magnificent garden, Bilbo found that he preferred Beorn’s. Beorn’s garden seemed far less manicured. It looked very much like a large version of a garden that might be found in the Shire. The flowers were immense and so were the bees. There were few bees at night, but Bilbo did see one or two lazily flying around.

“I have to go back to the Shire.”

The words left Bilbo’s mouth almost before he was aware that he’d been thinking it. He suddenly went cold all over and took a deep drink of the mead. 

“I can’t stay. I have to make a decision about Bag End.” It HAD to be done or the law would force a decision on him. And suddenly, with terrible clarity, Bilbo knew exactly what he would do.

Bilbo took another long drink.

He was so distracted by his sudden resolution that when one of the honeybees buzzed right up to him and landed on his lap, Bilbo didn’t even flinch. The bee was rather fuzzy. It settled right down as if it were a rather unusual breed of lapdog. Though he was a little surprise, Bilbo patted the bug. The bee seemed content and sat comfortably on Bilbo’s lap. 

“I think I’ll call you Bessy. You look like a Bessy.”

Bessy studied Bilbo with glossy black eyes.

Bilbo enjoyed his drink and the bee’s company and was starting to think of going back inside when the pitcher of mead was gently taken out of his hand.

For a moment, Bilbo stared at his empty hand. Then he slowly looked up to find Bombur, who was obviously standing his turn at watch, looking down at him. Bilbo must have been a little more tipsy than he’d thought because it took him a minute to realize that Bombur was holding the missing pitcher. “You have my drink.”

“You don’t need it.” Bombur looked sad and Bilbo thought he might cry because he really, really liked Bombur and didn’t want him to be sad. Bombur continued, “There’s better things for you to drink. Why aren’t you sleeping?”

“Because I woke up.” Bilbo gave his honeybee another pat and scratched her behind the antennae. “And then I wanted a drink ‘cause no one would let me have any drink and I did ask politely, but Thorin did his grumpy glare and I think he just wanted… wanted…” Bilbo entirely lost his train of thought. “Have you seen my new friend? Isn’t she lovely?” Her name is Bessy.” Bilbo sighed and leaned over far enough to rest his cheek on Bessy’s furry back. “Do you think Beorn will let me keep her? Is Erebor big enough for honeybees?”

Bombur shook his head. “Oh, dear. You’re drunk.”

“I’m completed under the table,” Bilbo agreed, cheerfully.

Bombur sat down next to Bilbo and patted his shoulder. “We should get you inside to sleep.”

“Little drink never hurt no one,” Bilbo slurred.

“You’re going to have a dreadful hangover in the morning.”

At that moment, Bilbo’s Bessy flew away. Bilbo watch her go, sadly, until Bombur patted his shoulder and told him they would see the bees in the morning. Bilbo said, “You’re so nice to me. So nice to everyone. You’re just nice.” Bilbo paused a minute. “Is your wife nice, too?”

With a rumble of a laugh, Bombur said, “Yes, my sweet Fon is very nice. I think you would like her very much. She is the soul of gentility with a ready smile and a heart so open and warm that she would willingly – happily - go out of her way to help anyone. She dotes on our children. She would move mountains for their sake.” As he spoke, Bombur encouraged Bilbo to his feet and gently took the pipe out of his hand. With an arm over his shoulder, Bombur easily led Bilbo back into the house, singing the praises of his wife with clear devotion and utter adoration.

Bilbo felt the crush he’d harbored for Bombur melt away until it was little more than a memory. Nothing he felt for Bombur could have ever come so close to the pure joy Bombur had felt when he’d spoken of his wife. But, it was alright. Bilbo was honestly happy for Bombur. To love so well was rare. At least he would be able to look Bombur in the eye without blushing after the realization.

“I think I'd like your wife,” Bilbo said.

“She would like you very much, too.”

Bombur managed to get Bilbo back to his spot in the straw without waking anyone and Bilbo was soon fast asleep, again.

Morning came and Bilbo woke with a bit of a headache. He’d had worse hangovers. He could feel the warm sun on his face, but he had no urge to move from his pile of straw. Bilbo rolled over and opened his eyes to find Nori looking down at him.

“Took you long enough to wake.” Nori, of course, sat beside the little pile of straw Bilbo had been given to sleep on. He sat cross-legged and chewed a large piece of bread. “It’s well late and I was starting to think I should wake you. You’ve missed breakfast.”

Bilbo groaned. “Okay. I’m up.” Bilbo closed his eyes and decidedly did not get up. 

“Bombur said you’d gotten into the mead last night,” Nori laughed. “Didn’t know when to stop, did you?”

Bilbo scowled at him, but that did nothing to stop Nori’s light-hearted teasing. Someday, Bilbo swore to himself, he would have an excellent scowl – just like Thorin’s! “Why are you here, Nori? Is this some Dark Hands thing? Do you have follow me around?”

A snort from Ori caused Bilbo to look at him. “Nori doesn’t have to follow you around anymore than I have to follow Kili around. We’re not shackled together. We’re not really bodyguards, you know. We just carry out certain… well… less than savory tasks.”

“Dori’s always around Thorin,” Bilbo pointed out.

Ori giggled. “Well… they ARE betrothed. Maybe they’re hoping for some alone time.”

Nori kicked Ori in the ankle. “You be respectful! Don’t talk about them like that!”

“But you do.” Ori rubbed his ankle with a sulky expression.

“I’m older than you; I’m allowed to.”

Ori sulked but quietly said, “I didn’t mean it; you know I didn’t. I was only teasing.”

“I know. Still, you shouldn’t talk about people behind their backs. Unless, of course, you need to do it in order to complete a job for Kili. Or they’re just a horrible person and you don’t like them. Or it’s really juicy gossip.”

“Yes, Nori.”

Nori finished off his bread. “Come on, then. We’ve got a bit of a respite and Thorin’s been making noises about teaching you to use your little darning needle.” He gestured at Bilbo’s sword where it lay next to him on the straw. “You’ll want to eat, first. I remember watching him teach Fili and Kili and he ran them ragged. Balin’s trying to convince him to let Dwalin teach you.”

“Would he be better?”

“Dwalin is an excellent teacher.” Ori held up his slingshot. “He even taught me to aim properly.”

A slingshot didn’t seem like a weapon Dwalin would have much interest in and Bilbo said just that while he rubbed his eyes and stretched his back. He was starting to feel his age and almost laughed at what an old hobbit he sounded like.

“Dwalin doesn’t use it, but he did teach me to aim so well that I never miss.” Ori shifted around until he sat next to Bilbo and held out his weapon of choice for Bilbo to admire. “I made it myself and it’s strong enough that it’s never broken, not in thirty years!”

But Nori seemed less than impressed. “Never miss? Don’t you remember that elf with the big…?”

“I remember. I remember. Bilbo doesn’t need to hear about that.”

“What’s taking so long, boys?” Balin walked in. He sighed. “I asked you to wake a good half-an-hour ago.” He waved his hands at Ori and Nori in a dismissive manner. “Off with you both.” When they both left, Balin gave that wonderfully grandfatherly smile to Bilbo. “Time for you to be on your feet. Might as well enjoy the day while you can. I expect it’s going to rain, later.”

“You’re always so cheerful, know that?” Bilbo did sit up and then he decided it was time to say something that had been bothering him since before they’d started to cross the Misty Mountains. He still didn’t have quite the right words, but he wanted to say something. “Balin, do you remember,” he began, hesitantly. “Back at that town just before we got to the Misty Mountains? Where the dwarf made everyone upset?”

A dark cloud flickered across Balin’s face, but it was gone in an instant. “I remember.”

“And… and you and I went up to our room at the inn while everyone else stayed downstairs to yell at the other dwarf?”

“Yes.”

“Well… it’s just… I hope I didn’t upset you when I said I didn’t like people touching me because you moved right away, but I wasn’t talking about you! Honestly! I was talking about that other dwarf because I didn’t know him, but I trust you. I was worried that I’d offended you. I hate to think I made you mad.” Bilbo had to stop for a breath and, when he did, he found Balin staring at him in astonishment.

“Laddie,” Balin told him with a gentle chuckle. “I was never angry with you. I just didn’t want to do something that you disliked.”

“So… you weren’t offended?”

“Not a bit.” Balin reached out a hand and Bilbo happily took it to let Balin help him to his feet. “Now that we’ve got that little misunderstanding out of the way, let’s get your something to eat, eh?”

In the main room of Beorn’s home, the other dwarves were waiting. Dwalin helped Bilbo climb up onto the bench so he could sit. Oin sat on one side of Bilbo and put a large mug of water in front of him and gave strict instructions to drink it all. Gloin sat on Bilbo’s other side and gave him a plate of bread and butter.

“Thank you,” Bilbo told them both.

“My pleasure.” Gloin gave Bilbo a stern look. “But if you’d kept out of the hard drink last night you wouldn’t be feeling so poorly. A good lesson to learn.”

Bilbo decided not to share that it certainly wasn’t his first hangover and probably wouldn’t be his last. He didn’t even feel all that badly.

Gloin continued, “Our host has gone out for a bit, but Gandalf expects him to be back soon. You were told about your swordsmanship lessons?”

With a mouth full of very nice bread, Bilbo nodded.

“Good. Good.” Gloin looked furtively around. The rest of the company milled around the massive room here and there. Gloin leaned closer and lowered his voice. “You don’t HAVE to use a sword, you know. Just because Gandalf gave it to you doesn’t mean you must keep it. Now, consider an ax. A good, trusty ax…”

“Gloin.” 

Gloin looked up at Oin. “What?”

“You leave him be and let him have at least one lesson before you start pestering him.” Oin gave an imperious wave of his hand and Gloin grumpily left the table. Oin shook a finger at Bilbo. “You ignore Gloin, for now. Hear me? That one’s been trying to figure out a way to have you take up an ax rather than a sword for days. Don’t let him talk you into it until you’re proficient with your sword first. One weapon at a time, I say.”

After Bilbo had finished all that was on his plate and drunk all the water his stomach felt pleasantly full for the first time since he’d left Bag End. He left the house and wandered into the front yard where Beorn’s garden, gloriously in bloom, spread out in front of him. It was so much more beautiful in the sun. The smell of the flowers was like perfume in the air, delicate and subtle. Just like the night before, Bilbo sat on the porch.

The moment Bilbo had sat down on the porch where he’d watched the stars the previous night, the rest of the dwarves came out of the house. Some of them raced out of Beorn’s house while others moved at a more sedate pace until everyone was outside and occupied themselves with this or that.

Bilbo leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. His head felt a bit better after he’d drunk all the water Oin had given him and he was able to enjoy the morning. 

The sun was warm and Bilbo’s belly was full, so all-in-all, he was a pretty content hobbit. He felt perfectly safe, watching the tall flowers sway in the breeze. The sun was bright and breeze was warm. The smell of flowers filled the air along with the lazy sound of honey bees buzzing to and fro. He couldn’t stir his mind enough to worry about orcs or goblins or rock giants or wargs or any of the other terrible things that appeared to dominate the world outside the Shire. His mind was filled with flowers and warm bread and milk and the relaxed singing of his dwarves.

Yes. HIS dwarves. He was seriously considering adopting the whole silly lot of them.

Ori and Nori laughed uproariously as they tried to out-do each other with rude limericks. Dori looking on disapproving, but Balin shouted that his apprentice had best win any contest with words if he knew what was good for him! Dwalin, in turn, fairly growled at Balin that HIS apprentice was certainly sharp enough to win any contest, even one with words. Ori and Nori appeared to ignore them both. The competition went on until Bofur, grinning, stepped up to them both and let loose a rhyme that had both Ori and Nori blushing and Bifur laughing so hard he fell over.

Bilbo giggled, but proudly thought, ‘My teacher wins!’ 

Fili and Kili were wrestling not far off and, just to prove that young dwarves weren’t the only silly ones, Oin and Bifur started wrestling, too. The rest of the dwarves quickly formed a ring around the wrestlers and cheered them on, but Bilbo couldn’t tell who was winning or who was cheering for whom. 

It struck Bilbo, looking at them all, how fond he was of all of them. Every one of them wanted to keep him around. Every one of them wanted to call him ‘family’. And he was just as fond of them. As time had passed during their quest, Bilbo had slowly realized that he had no idea how he was going to live his life when he had to leave them.

“Mind if I sit?” Ori was suddenly at Bilbo’s side and smiled down at him.

“Of course not. There’s plenty of room.”

Now, Ori was a strange character, to Bilbo’s way of thinking. Ori was young, nearly as young as Fili, but he had such training that made him an unapologetic killer. He was proud of his skills. Ori was also a sweet, a gentle soul with a great love of art and writing. 

No matter how odd Bilbo thought Ori was, he did like Ori very much.

Ori made himself comfortable and turned to watch the wrestling matches just in time to see Oin toss Balin several feet in the air. Ori clapped politely. “How are you feeling?” Ori asked after a bit. “No lingering injuries from your fall?”

“I was very lucky and had a soft landing. There are a few bruises, but nothing to worry about. In fact, I don’t remember the last time I felt so good.” It was the truth. He felt almost completely relaxed and at ease. He didn’t have the slightest desire to clean anything and he hadn’t chewed his thumbnail since they’d arrived. It was as if something about Beorn had washed away almost all Bilbo’s anxiety. There was still something small, something that lingered on his mind.

“Ori, may I ask you a question?”

“Of course.”

Bilbo fingered the ring in his waistcoat pocket. “Ummm… What do you think…I mean… if you found something that seemed very special – VERY special – would you tell everyone?”

Ori, naturally, looked confused. “Well, I suppose it was so special I’d want to show it off. Wouldn’t you?”

“Maybe. Maybe. Yes. Yes, I think I would like to.” But even as he’d said it, Bilbo felt something nudge his mind. He didn’t really want to show it off. No. That was silly. No one would want to see it, especially not the dwarves who would obviously prefer more ornate jewelry with decorations all over them whether that was gems or engravings. Bilbo’s ring was very plain, really. No one would be interested.

“What did you find, Bilbo?” But before Bilbo could answer, a shout rang out that it was Ori’s turn to wrestle and he happily raced off to face Dwalin.

A funny little noise caught Bilbo’s attention. He waited for a moment, then heard the noise, again. It came from under the porch. Bilbo leaned over and peeked under the porch just as a honeybee flew out. She zipped around the flowers for a minute before she flew back to Bilbo and settled on his lap. Bilbo grinned. “Good morning, Bessy.” 

"A rare bunny who charms my bees.”

Bilbo looked up at the deep voice and found Beorn towering over him. Somehow, Beorn, despite being absurdly big, was able to move even more quietly than a hobbit.

Beorn sat next to Bilbo and reached over to stroke his finger across the back of Bilbo’s bee. Beorn was quite the most immense person Bilbo had ever seen with the exception of the rock giants. He towered over even Gandalf. Bilbo smiled, for while Beorn had frightened him when they’d all first arrived, he quite liked the skinchanger after they’d grown acquainted. 

“She’s really very sweet, Mister Beorn,” Bilbo said of Bessy. He wasn’t entirely sure how one addressed a skinchanger or what Beorn’s proper social rank might be, but as there didn’t seem to be any other people within miles and Beorn hadn’t objected to the title of ‘mister’, Bilbo decided that Beorn wasn’t bother by such things. “I do hope we aren’t putting you to any trouble.” Bilbo gathered up his many years of training in proper manners. He had never been quite comfortable as a guest and hadn’t had much practice in it, but he knew the rules.

“No trouble at all,” Beorn answered. “It has been many years since I have had guests.”

Bilbo smiled up at him. “You really have been an excellent host. I don’t know what we’d have done without this respite. I don’t know about the others, but I don’t think I could have gone another day without your help. In fact,” the thought struck Bilbo. “I think you have made this whole trip a success. Yes, if we get to Erebor and actually take back the mountain, then it is all thanks to you. I don’t suppose you have a piece of fabric you might like to give me?”

Beorn raise one of those massive eyebrows of his. “Why?”

“I’m making a quilt and I think you should be in it, too. I lost the last one in the goblin caves, but I’m going to make a new one. It’s very important. Every one of my dwarves will have a piece in the quilt that will remind me of them. Gandalf has promised to give me something of his and I will stop in Rivendell on my way back to the Shire and I think Lord Elrond will be kind enough to give me something of his. Gandalf told Thorin it was time to go back to the mountain and Lord Elrond read the instructions on the map. Now, you gave us shelter and food when we most needed it so I think you belong in my quilt just as much as they do.”

Beorn looked shocked, then smiled and ruffled Bilbo’s hair. “I would be honored. Before you leave, I will find something to give you.”

"Bilbo."

Bilbo turned when he heard his name and found Thorin, his sword drawn, watching Bilbo. "Yes?"

"It's time for you to learn how to use your sword."

 

To be continued…


	14. Black Butterflies

Chapter 14: Black Butterflies

 

Dori disliked Mirkwood intensely.

No one liked Mirkwood. Dori doubted that even the elves who lived there like Mirkwood.

“Alright,” Oin’s voice was loud enough to startle everyone in the group. “What’s the problem?”

Dori turned around and found that Oin had moved up to walk next to Bilbo. “Something wrong?”

“I’m fine,” Bilbo grumbled to them both, crossly. “I’m just fine. It’s nothing. Really.” He walked oddly, gingerly, with an expression on his face that one might wear if they were walking in pond scum. “This place is awful.”

Oin stared at Bilbo’s feet as they continued to walk. “What’s wrong with your feet? Step on a rock?”

“Oh, no. I’m sure it’s nothing.”

Oin looked thoroughly unimpressed. “Do you know how I got to hold my position?”

“Huh?”

“My position, boy. I am the chief healer of His Majesty.” Oin made a negligent gesture towards where Thorin was having a conference with Balin. “I did not gain Thorin’s trust by being stupid. I’ve been watching you worry at your feet for ten minutes, now, which is exactly how long we’ve been in Mirkwood. You keep looking at the forest and while it’s a daunting sight, it’s not one that ought to be turning you green. What is wrong?” When Bilbo said nothing for a moment, Oin continued, “I have done and seen more in life than I ever want to tell you about. Nothing you say will shock me. Is this some hobbit thing? Something of a… discrete nature?”

Bilbo blushed. “Goodness! It’s nothing like that! My feet are perfectly fine, thank you very much. It’s the ground. The ground is sick; the dirt feels wrong.” He grimaced. “This whole forest is sick and the dirt is foul and I can feel it every time I take a step. I’ve never wished for shoes so much in my whole life! There’s something killing this forest – a slow poison – and it’s in the dirt.”

“Well, that’s Mirkwood, for you.” But Oin paused and lowered his ear trumpet. “But,” he hesitantly, quietly, said. “One… long ago… it was beautiful.” 

It was true. While the place was a nightmare and Bilbo looked confused about what Oin could possibly be talking about, Dori remembered those long ago days when he’d accompanied Thorin on diplomatic missions to the home of the Wood Elves. In those days, there had been peace and even friendship. Dori remembered the brilliant green of the leaves and the sunlight making the forest’s many small rivers and ponds sparkle. He remembered the elves singing happily, playing in the trees like children.

Bilbo’s nose wrinkled and he gestured around them at the looming trees that grew thickly at the sides of the path. “Maybe it was nice, once, but right now something is very wrong. The whole place needs to be healed.”

“Are you sure?” Ori asked, looking up at the dark branches above them.

Kili reached out and put the palm of his hand against the trunk of one of the trees. “Yeah? The ground is making the trees sick? How? I thought the whole place was haunted.”

Dori narrowed his eyes and looked a little closer at the ominous shadows around them. He hadn’t considered the possibility of ghosts. That would definitely be an explanation for the oppressive atmosphere. It was a problem. He’d killed many things in his life, but how was he supposed to kill a ghost?

“Plants get lots of good things from the ground,” Bilbo explained. “That’s why any gardener will tell you that good dirt means a good garden. How can these trees be healthy and good with bad soil?”

Bofur brightly said, “You might be right. I was of a mind to get you some wood to replace what you lost in the orc’s caves. I thought you could start that bunny of yours, again, but I don’t like the feel of the wood in here. No, I don’t think I want you touching it much at all.”

Bilbo stopped walking and looked at Oin. “Isn’t this where a bunch of elves live? I thought someone said elves lived in this forest.”

“They do.” Thorin’s whole body tensed at the mention of elves. The disgust in his voice was evident. “Wood elves.”

“How?” Bilbo asked. “How can anyone live in this place? What do they drink? That little river back there looked foul! What do they eat?”

“We call them ‘leaf-eaters’ for a reason,” Nori commented. He reached up and pulled down a low-hanging branch to get a closer look at the tree’s leaves – brown spotted and an unhealthy looking curl to the edges. “They CAN’T eat this stuff!”

“Maybe they hunt.” Kili looked eagerly at Thorin. “I’ll bet I could bring something down. If I can-”

Thorin interrupted, “No, you will not leave the path. I will not risk that, yet.”

Kili pouted, but Beorn had been very clear when he’d told them not to leave the path. They all understood and, without Gandalf, they didn’t want to take any risks. 

Onward they walked for two days before their food ran out. What game they could bring down on the safety of the path had been tough and tasteless. Still, they kept walking.

The days were too hot and the nights were too cold. Darkness was everywhere. There was little difference between day and night except for the fact that the day was just light enough for them to see. While they could see enough to walk, they didn’t see the sun as the canopy of ancient trees covered them as surely as a blanket covering a child. There were creatures in the shadows. They could see eyes, on occasion, watching them. The large, luminous eyes were chilling for everyone, but Bilbo had an especially hard time. At night, he would make sure to sit next to someone – anyone! – and kept his eyes on his lap or whoever he was talking to or he would simply go to sleep. He did his very best not to look around at the eyes watching them. Perhaps, Dori mused, it was the memory of the thing in the orc’s caves that haunted Bilbo. He had spoken of huge eyes watching him from the darkness.

The lack of sunlight seemed especially hard on Bilbo. He grew despondent and kept stealing glances upward as they walked. Then, one day, Bilbo froze in his tracks so suddenly that it drew everyone’s attention.

“What is it, Bilbo?” Fili asked.

“I can see the sun.” Bilbo’s arms hung down at his sides and his face was tilted back until he was looking straight up. The canopy above was dark, but, Dori saw, there was a tiny speck of sunlight creeping in.

“We’ll see more of it soon, laddie,” Balin tried to sound reassuring for Bilbo. “As soon as we get the other side of the forest, you’ll have as much sun as you can stand.”

But Bilbo didn’t turn his eyes away from the light that looked like a lone star that had fallen from the sky only to get caught in the tangled branches of the trees.

Thorin called out, “Let move. The sooner we get out of here, the better.” 

While everyone started to move on down the path, Bilbo didn’t move a muscle. He stood as if transfixed. Dori called for Bilbo to pay attention and Nori tugged on Bilbo’s sleeve, but Bilbo didn’t move.

“The sun…” In a shockingly fierce move that no one expected, Bilbo dashed away from the group. He went straight to one of the immense trees on the side of the path and grabbed a branch and hauled himself up.

Everyone shouted for Bilbo to stop, but Nori, who was closed to him, reached Bilbo, first. He grabbed Bilbo by the ankle and called out, “Come back here! What are you doing?”

Bilbo didn’t so much as look at Nori when he kicked with his free foot while holding onto a branch with both hands and kicked Nori so hard in the hand that Nori let out a yelp and let Bilbo go. He fell to the ground clutched his wounded hand while Bilbo, freed, climbed up as quickly as a squirrel. 

“Are you alright?” Dori pulled Nori up to his feet.

“Fine, I’m fine.” Nori looked up into Bilbo’s tree, determined. Without a word, he, too, started to climb. “I’ll bring him back!”

“And who’s going to bring you back?!” Dori didn’t waste a minute before he, too, grabbed that first low branch of the tree. “A squirrel and a raccoon up a tree and me chasing after. I’m getting too old for this!”

Thorin offered, “I’ll go…”

“No. You stay where I’ll know your feet are firmly on the ground. We’ll be back in a minute.” 

Dori wasn’t much for tree climbing. In his youth, he had, like most children, gone climbing in the caves of Erebor. Trees were entirely different. The branches felt brittle, as if they could snap at any minute, but they were strong. The branches bent under his weight, the trees swayed and shook in the breeze more and more the higher he climbed, but none of the branches broke and he was able to continue after his brother and Bilbo. A look up now and again, showed that the two youngsters were still climbing. He was only a few feet below Nori, but Bilbo was fast as anything and seemed to be racing up towards the canopy in his desperation to get to the sun.

Dori’s sword and cloak caught on branches and twigs. The tree’s trunk began to grow thinner. The simple knowledge that the ground was so far below (he didn’t dare look down for fear that he wouldn’t even be able to see his people) made his head swim terribly. Still, upward he climbed.

He looked up at the just the moment that Bilbo reached that small hole in the canopy and pushed his way through the leaves that hid the sun and disappeared. Nori followed soon after and Dori, bigger than both of them put together, struggled his way up to through the leaves until finally, he broke through the canopy and was nearly blinded by the sunlight he hadn’t seen in days. The air was fresh, clean. He hadn’t realized how stifling the air in the forest had been, as if it were dead. But, above the trees a gentle breeze stirred around them, rustling the leaves.

Bilbo and Nori were right with him, no more than a few feet away, and Dori silently thanked his lucky stars that they were alright. The idea of Nori climbing so high had set him on edge, but little Bilbo? That had terrified him. One little slip and it would have been over. But Bilbo was smiling. Bilbo sat on one of the high branches, balanced carefully, and pushed his shirt sleeves up to his elbows and unbuttoned the top few buttons of his shirt, as if he were trying to expose as much of his skin as possible to the sun. He took deep, gulps of the air. Nori didn’t look nearly so happy to be so far away from the ground and he made his feeling perfectly clear by berating Bilbo even as he cautiously moved to sit on the branch with Bilbo.

“For a feller who said he wasn’t going to disappear anymore, you sure make a habit of taking off.”

“I’m sorry,” Bilbo said, contritely. “I really am, but I saw the sun and I had to get to it. Hobbits need to have the sun as much as possible, you know. Normally, a few days without it isn’t bad, but the combination of no sun and the sick dirt… I just couldn’t stand it.” He looked around and his face fell. He looked like a whipped puppy. “Oh… oh, no. It goes on forever!”

Dori followed Bilbo’s distraught look. In the far distance, he could see Erebor’s peek, but the Mirkwood did, indeed, look almost endless. There were miles left to go before they would leave the trees. It was so immense, that Dori couldn’t see anything beyond the forest except Erebor’s peek. “It’s not forever,” Dori said, practically. “It’s quite a long way, yes, but not forever. We’ll get there.”

“But…” Bilbo’s words trailed away. He took another deep breath of the clean air and straightened his shoulders. “Yes, Dori. You’re right. We’ll get there and… ah! Butterflies!” The sheer delight in his voice was lovely to hear.

All around them were butterflies; beautiful creatures with delicate, black wings. There were suddenly everywhere, thousands of them. They must have been in the uppermost leaves of the trees and had been disturbed by unexpected visitors.

“How lovely.” Bilbo held out a hand when one butterfly fluttered close to him. It alighted on the palm of his hand. Bilbo brought it up close to his face and smiled at it before… “Ah!” Bilbo cried out. He waved his hand, flinging the butterfly away from him, and jerked so suddenly that he would have lost his precarious perch if Nori hadn’t grabbed him and held him steady. Bilbo stared at his hand, then held to show Dori where a small drop of blood oozed down the palm of his hand. “It bit me!”

“Butterflies don’t bite,” Nori protested, though he looked warily around at the little things fluttering around them. “Even I know that butterflies don’t bite!”

“Well, that one did. Droughts and floods! It hurts!” Then, Bilbo gasped. His eyes went very wide, then he wavered on the branch he sat on. His eyes began to slide closed and his shoulders began to slump. “I… oh, my. I think… Dori, I think it was venomous.” Bilbo’s eyes rolled back and he fell forward. If Nori hadn’t been there, he surely would have fallen to his death.

“Wake up!” Nori shouted, right in Bilbo’s ear. When that got no reaction at all, Nori shouted a bit more until he looked at Dori, panicked. “What’s wrong with him?”

“It IS the butterflies.” Dori looked around at the little bugs, so beautiful and fragile. There were thousands of them, all fluttering less than a foot above the trees. However, he noticed the lazy fluttering of the ones nearest to them was quickly growing more frantic. “I think they can smell his blood.” He turned back to Nori just in time to see another butterfly flitter near Nori’s head and he yelled, “Down! Get under the leaves!”

At once, Nori did as he was told. He pulled Bilbo over one shoulder to carry him and slipped down to the tree’s lower branches with a noisy rustle of the leave. Dori followed the moment he saw Nori was safe from the butterflies. In just a moment, the three of them were safely beneath the canopy with the butterflies above. The canopy of the trees was so dense with leaves and small branches that Dori could only guess that was the only thing keeping the butterflies from flooding down into the forest. He hurriedly shifted someone the branches around to block up the spaces they’d made when they’d climbed through the canopy to prevent any butterflies from following them.

Once safely away from the butterflies, Nori sat on a tree’s branch. He held Bilbo over one shoulder and if Bilbo had been awake, he would have undoubtedly been very uncomfortable and squawking with indignation. As it was, he was frighteningly still.

With one arm securely over the back of Bilbo’s legs to hold him in place, Nori looked up. “I’ve never seen the like! Meat-eating butterflies? And I thought the worst of this place was below.” He jostled Bilbo. “Come on, wake up. Talk to me. Dori, take a look at him, will you?”

Carefully, Dori moved to the same branch Nori sat on and put a hand to Bilbo’s throat. The pulse seemed steady enough. A hand put just in front of Bilbo’s mouth and nose let Dori feel that Bilbo breathed. “He’s alive. I want Oin to look him over, though. That bite’s still bleeding.”

They began to climb down, moving far more slowly than they’d climbed up, but when they reached the ground, there wasn’t a sign of their company. Everyone was gone.

“Where is everyone?” Nori asked, his whole body tense.

There was a rustle from somewhere just off the path, just out of sight. A chittering noise unlike anything Dori had ever heard filled the air around them. The noises came from all sides and Dori realized that they were surrounded by whatever was making the noises. 

Dori’s hand went to his sword. He caught a movement in the corner of his eye, but when he turned his head in that direction, he could see nothing. “Put Bilbo down and get ready to kill.” Dori’s voice came out as a hissed whisper. He didn’t know what Nori did with Bilbo as he was too busy keeping an eye on their surroundings. He desperately wanted to call for the others, for Ori and Thorin, but he didn’t dare for fear of attracting unwanted attention.

“Nori?”

“I’m ready.” Nori, standing at Dori’s side, held his long-handled mace with both hands. Bilbo was nowhere to be seen, thankfully. “What is it?” He narrowed his eyes as the chittering sound rose up around them, coming from several different spots at the same time.

“Whatever it is, there’s more than one of them.” Dori didn’t voice the obvious – that whatever was lurking in the darkness had done something with their companions while they’d be up in the treetops. “Be ready.”

Then, from the shadows, came the spiders. 

Such spiders!

They were immense creatures, taller than horse with a nightmarish fangs that dripped an ominous, yellow-tinged venom. Their multi-faceted eyes focused entirely on Dori and Nori. They chattered and stirred up fallen leaves with their immensely long legs. It was all in a rush. Three giant spiders attacked them from three different sides. They were overwhelmed almost at once, but they fought. Dori slashed and jabbed at the spiders with his sword while Nori swung his mace in long arches, trying to strike the grotesque thing with the heavy, metal end. Dori even managed to get a hand on a spider’s leg and with a single squeeze, broke the thing as if it were nothing more than a twig. 

The spider let out a terrible, pained screech. “It hurts us! It hurts us, sisters!”

That they could speak probably should have surprised Dori more than it did, but at that moment, he just wanted them all dead. Dori was a superb killer with years of experience behind him, but he had been trained to kill dwarves, humans, elves and other similar creatures. Not spiders. He had never once imagined that a spider could grow so large, let alone that he would have to find a way to kill one. He managed it. With a powerful blow, he swung his sword at just the right moment and managed to decapitate one of them; its head bounced a few yards before coming to a rest. Unfortunately, that still left two spiders. Nori fell first, taking a bite to the arm that had him on the ground. The other spider got Dori on the back.

The spider’s venom was like ice spreading through his veins. He was cold. So cold. Suddenly unable to stand, Dori sat heavily on the ground. His sword, still somehow in his grasp, was useless as Dori had no strength at all to pick it up. He felt unconsciousness start to drag at his mind and fought with all his will against it. He looked over at Nori, helpless as a baby. Nori’s eyes were closed and he didn’t move so much as a muscle when the spider that had bitten him began to spin a web around him, cocooning him. Dori wanted to scream and rage and pull the foul thing apart with his bare hands.

‘They ate the others!’ He thought in a near panic, fury and hate battling with grief. ‘Ori, Thorin… everyone’s been eaten!’ He couldn’t take his eyes off Nori and struggled to move, to do SOMETHING to save at least one of his little brothers. It was no use – the venom was too strong and he couldn’t so much as twitch a finger.

Dori’s eyes slipped closed and he had to fight to open them. When he did, Nori was completely wrapped and Dori would have screamed, if he could have. But his anguished was only increased when he saw little Bilbo peeking out from under a bush where, no doubt, Nori had put him before the spiders had attacked. The butterfly’s venom must have worn off. Bilbo stared in horror at the spiders, then at the silk wrapped Nori, then at Dori. Dori wanted to yell at Bilbo to run, to escape while he could, but he couldn’t even open his mouth.

Bilbo backed away into the shrub and, for a moment, Dori hoped that Bilbo had done the intelligent thing and run away. But… no. Bilbo was climbing, again. Once again, fast as a squirrel, Bilbo climbed one of the tall trees. When Bilbo was no more than fifteen feet off the ground, he stopped and looked down. In a deliberate move, he kicked a branch near him, which caused it to break off the tree and fall nosily to the ground. The spiders both heard him. They swung their heads up and screeched happily when they saw him.

“Another! Another! Get him!” Then, they began climbing the tree after Bilbo. While they were far bigger than Bilbo, their size made them slower while climbing and Bilbo was able to keep ahead of them. 

Soon, Bilbo reached the canopy. Dori was only barely able to see the sharp glint of metal when Bilbo drew his little sword. There was a movement and Dori realized Bilbo must have swung his sword. But, the spiders were too far away for him to have struck out at them. Instead, Dori heard the rustle of leaves and then he saw the light of the sun. Bilbo had cut a branch large enough to let in the light. Dori didn’t understand until he heard the spiders scream. They began back down to the ground. Even then, it took Dori a minute to see what had scared them. The butterflies. 

The butterflies were only visible when the sparse sunlight from above shone on them, but Dori could see the black butterflies fluttering faster and faster, aggressive in their pursuit. The spiders tried to run, but the little butterflies, dozens of them, were faster than butterflies ought to be. They began to land on the spiders and, a mere instant later, the spiders fell to the ground, apparently knocked out by the bites of the butterflies, just as Bilbo had been. Where Bilbo had been bitten by only once, the spiders each bore more than two dozen bites and it seemed the butterflies had a taste for spiders. They stayed on the fallen spiders and from what Dori guessed, began to feed upon them. He really had no urge to prove or disprove his guess.

High above, Bilbo pulled and pushed the branches of the canopy until the small hole he made was covered up before he came out of the tree. “Dori?” Then Bilbo was in front of Dori, a worried frown on his face. “Dori? Can you hear me?” He glanced over at the spiders and the butterflies. “I’m very glad that worked. Talk about a stab in the dark! I had no clue what else to try, but guessed the butterflies had to be hanging around for a reason. Maybe spiders are their natural prey and this is a really nice feast for them. Gracious! Spiders and butterflies and no food… this is the most horrible place in the whole world!” Bilbo was sweaty from his climb and held his little sword in one hand, as if he was afraid of another spider creeping out at them and, really, it seemed a perfectly sensible, given the circumstances. Bilbo hurried away from Dori to where Nori had been and carefully used his sword to cut Nori free of the silk cocoon. When that was done, he dragged Nori over to Dori and left him laying next to where Dori sat. “Right. Fine. Good. This is okay. It’s going to be okay.” Bilbo’s attitude was anything but reassuring and Dori desperately wanted to give him a hug to make him feel better. There was nothing he could do until the spider’s venom wore off… if it wore off.

Bilbo gently helped Dori lay down. “I don’t want you to just fall over, you just rest and I’ll be right back.” He paused when an errant butterfly began to hover near Nori. Bilbo squashed the thing. “I have the find the others and then I’ll bring them back.” He paused long enough to get a good look at what the butterflies had done to the spiders. “Oh, yuk!” Then he methodically went around and squashed every butterfly he could find. He muttered, “Never thought I’d be happy to kill butterflies.”

Dori lay there in silent agony as he watched Bilbo sprint away, alone in the vile forest. 

Bilbo had only been gone for a short while before he returned and said to Dori, “Sorry about this, but there’s been a little change of plans. I can’t bring them back here because they’re all out cold, too, and I can’t possibly move all of them here. So,” Bilbo moved to stand near Nori and took hold of him under the arms. With a grunt, Bilbo lifted Nori as much as he could started to drag him away. “You two are going to come with me.”

It took an agonizingly long time, but eventually, Bilbo managed to drag Nori and Dori to the others. There was a great deal of cut-up spider silk all around and mostly unconscious dwarves.

“The spiders got them, too,” Bilbo said. “Hopefully you’ll all wake up, soon. But it’s okay if you don’t. I’ll get you all out of the forest.” Bilbo nodded with determination that was only marred with the nearly panicked look he wore when he looked around at everyone. “Somehow, I’ll get you all out of here.”

Fortunately, like the butterflies’ venom, the spider venom also wore off, given time. Bombur woke up first and soon struggled to his feet. Then Gloin was awake. Eventually, Dori was able to speak and could soon move his arms and legs. A few minutes after that, he could stand and walk and was helping Nori to stand. The last to wake was the smallest of them, Kili, but it was a great relief to find that they’d all survived the spider’s attack. Though, if Dori had had any less self-esteem, he might have worried about how a person of his training and experience had been rescued by a little child. Still, they were all alive and well and that was the important thing in the end.

“Thank goodness!” Bilbo smiled brightly when Kili had finally stood, helped up by Ori and Fili. “I was so worried and- ”

And then they were surrounded by wood elves. They were too weakened by the spiders’ venom to put up any fight and were easily captured.

‘Damn it!’ Dori thought, bitterly. ‘Elves. This day can't get worse!’ But the day did get worse when he looked around for Bilbo and found that the boy had disappeared, again.

 

To be continued…


	15. Little Frog

Chapter 15: Little Frog

 

The prisons of Mirkwood were well-built.

Thorin couldn’t deny that. The walls and floor were smooth, almost polished. The door of Thorin’s cell was wooden with just the smallest of windows for light. Thorin sat in his cell, dismal and silent. Somewhere, he could hear the steady drip of water, but his cell was thankfully dry. Were the others so comfortable? Were they safe? Were they dead?

Bound to the floor with chain that was secured to the floor on one end and to the manacle on Thorin’s wrist on the other, Thorin had no choice but to sit on the floor. The cell had no chairs or a cot or anything else to sit on.

His chest ached fiercely where the spider had bitten him. The spiders' attack had come so unexpectedly that no one had had any hope of defeating them. Thorin had barely been able to draw his sword before he’d been felled and he’d stayed awake long enough to watched everyone else fall around him. He'd wondered, briefly, what other monsters lurked in the shadows of Mirkwood… other than elves, of course. The fact that he’d been brought down by a spider when orcs, goblins, wargs, trolls, and rock giants had failed was just appalling.

The shame of the whole situation was nearly crippling. First their whole party was felled and nearly eaten by spiders, then they were saved by little Bilbo, only to captured by elves. The whole day was entirely unbearable. He was a failure. The biggest failure that had ever failed. His ancestors were probably furious. Worse, they were probably laughing at him. How was he supposed to get his people out of this mess? He couldn’t even get out of his cell. What about the loved ones they’d left behind? Dis would take care of the others, but Thorin had no way to get word back to them and if they didn’t make it out of Mirkwood, the others would wonder forever what had happened to them.

The door of the cell opened and two elves, one armed with a sword and other holding a bowl of something, walked in. The armed one stayed by the door while the other approached Thorin slowly. He set down the bowl he’d brought with him on the floor within arms’ reach for Thorin before he and the armed elf left, locking the door behind them.

The simple clay bowl held an unappetizing white paste.

“This is food?” Thorin scowled at the bowl. “Leaves would have been better.”

No matter how distasteful, he hadn’t eaten in two days. His stomach roared its unhappiness. While his pride railed at him against accepting anything, even food, from elves, he couldn’t resist. Thorin scooped up a finger full and brought it to his mouth.

“Stop!”

The sudden shout made Thorin freeze. He would have reached for his sword if he’d still had it.

A female elf stood at the door, her thin face peering in through the small window. Thorin heard, again, the sound of a key unlocking the door before the door was opened and the female entered. He recognized her as one of the elves who’d captured them in the forest. She was… different. He’d seen female elves before, but they had all been rather soft. Long flowing hair and gowns, graceful moves, as if they weren’t quite of this world. This one was hard. Thorin could see strength as well as grace in her movements, even as she strode quickly across the cell towards him and pushed the bowl away from him. She wiped the white paste off Thorin’s fingers and even went so far as to use the hem of her tunic to clean his fingers entirely off.

“That’s not food,” the female said, sharply. “Didn’t they tell you what do with it?”

Wordlessly, Thorin shook his head.

“It’s medicine.” Even her eyes were hard, Thorin noted. “You were bitten by one of the Spiders and this will help leech the venom out. You will recover without it, as the venom is only used to stun the Spiders’ prey, but this will help speed the process.” She paused a moment, then sighed. “Forgive this… impropriety, please.” That was all the warning Thorin got before the female pushed his shirt right up to his armpits.

Thorin had never been so embarrassed in his life.

And then the elf prince walked in and Thorin felt doubly shamed.

The young elf prince’s eyes widened. “Tauriel! What are you doing to him?”

The female, Tauriel, rolled her eyes and looked over her shoulder. “Having a tea party, of course. Don’t stand there like a fool, Legolas. Those incompetent guards just left the medicine here without any instructions. He tried to eat it! Go check on the other prisoners. If anyone’s eaten it, there’s going to be trouble.” Legolas took off running at once and Tauriel turned back around and examined Thorin’s chest. “I’ve seen worse.” She took a finger full of the white paste and smeared it on the two large holes on Thorin’s chest. The holes were frightful – black around the edges and oozing puss – but the paste was cool and quickly eased away the pain. 

“My people…” Thorin forced out the words.

Tauriel reassured him, “They’ll be fine. If Legolas isn’t in time to stop them from eating it, the medicine will make them sick, but won’t kill them. When I said there would be trouble, I meant they’ll be trouble for those guards. I’ll have them polishing every leaf in Mirkwood if they’re going to be this incompetent.” She covered the wounds with the paste until the pain was entirely gone. “I’ll have food sent for you and those guards will not repeat this.” She stood and started to carry the empty bowl out when she paused and looked back at Thorin. “The young one… dark hair?”

Kili, obviously. “My nephew.”

Her lips twitched in such a way that might have hinted at a smile. “Your nephew needs better manners when talking to ladies.” She left it at that and left the room, locking it behind her, of course.

‘They might as well have left the door wide open,’ Thorin thought. Why not? It wasn’t as if he could go anywhere with the chain binding him to the floor. He couldn’t even move further away than a few feet to use the necessity bucket that had been left for him. He supposed he ought to be thankful that they had left a bucket.

Thorin sat there for a long time and wondered what trouble Kili had gotten himself into and desperately tried not to think about how his father and grandfather would have been so shamed at how low Thorin had sunk to be captured and imprisoned by elves.

Time passed.

Thorin believed it had been a couple of days, but wasn’t certain. Food and water had been brought at various times and the medicine provided by Tauriel healed his wound more quickly than could be imagined. Still, Thorin sat and waited. The conditions could have been worse. The cell was reasonably clean and free of rats. The food was adequate and the water seemed clean enough.

“Your companions are well.”

On what Thorin guessed to be his third day of imprisonment, the red-haired female, Tauriel, returned. She stood in the doorway of his cell for a moment before she stepped forward and lowered herself to sit cross-legged on the floor. 

With an audience, Thorin straightened his back to show at least a tiny bit of dignity. Then he sat there in silence and waited for her to speak. The silence went for quite a long while, long enough for him to grow impatient. “I have no urge to socialize with my captors.”

Tauriel didn’t turn her eyes away from him. “I am… curious. About Erebor. About the dragon.”

“What about it?” Thorin looked away from the elf, his stomach churning at the thought of Smaug descending upon Erebor. The memories it dredged up were always too real, as if he were back in the moment.

“Do you think it dead? His Majesty has suggested… I have heard you return to the mountain for your treasure.”

“I return to give my people a home.” The wealth would be a welcome bonus, but the true prize was to have his family in the safe depths of the mountain with miles of solid stone all around them to protect them from the dangerous world outside.

“Captain,” one of the elf guards happened by at that time and seemed surprised to find Tauriel sitting on the floor of Thorin’s cell. It was the same guard who’d given Thorin the medicine without explaining what it was. “What are you doing? Is there trouble?” His expression said well enough that he would be happy to run Thorin through on the spot.

Tauriel’s face was impassive as she gracefully got to her feet. “There is nothing going on. I was speaking with the prisoner.” Then she turned to face the guard and lifted her chin a little. “Are you implying something improper?”

“Of course not, captain! I would never… I certainly wouldn’t suggest something between you and a dwarf.”

Thorin rolled his eyes at the disgusted tone.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Tauriel said in an off-hand manner. “There is something to be said for partner with skilled hands. Who would have more skilled hands than a dwarf?” 

The elves left and Thorin, alone in his cell, puzzled over what she’d said. Why should she be curious about Erebor? Skilled hands? A partner? Thorin’s stomach churned. He certainly hoped the elf wasn’t thinking about HIS skilled hands! Ewww.

While Thorin waited, he couldn’t help but think. He’d been trying to work out some plan, but still had absolutely no idea how he was going to get out of the cell, let alone how he was supposed to rescue the others. He wished Dori or Balin were with him so they could plan something. He especially wished Dori were with him. Tauriel’s question about the dragon bought back fearsome memories. He had flashes of images… the dragon soaring down from the clouds… Dale burning… someone screamed…

“Psst! Thorin! Are you alright?”

The voice came from nothing, but was so clear that Thorin looked around the empty cell, warily. He knew that voice very well. “Bilbo?”

“Right here.” And sudden he was right there, next to the door. Bilbo hurried to Thorin’s side and sat on his knees next to him. Bilbo stared at Thorin’s manacle and chain. “Are you hurt? I found the others and they’re all very worried about you. Dori almost broke out, but they chained him up, too, now. I’m trying to find a way out, but I’m having a rough time of it.”

Thorin held up a restraining hand. “Hold on. Quietly.” He looked at the door. “You shouldn’t be overheard in here. How did you get in?”

“I’m the burglar, aren’t I? I crept in and I’ll creep out the next time they open the door and they aren’t looking.” Bilbo’s smile was weak and uncomfortable looking, but Thorin didn’t push him. The whole situation was uncomfortable. Bilbo didn’t look well. He was far too thin and pale.

Thorin reached out with one hand and took hold of Bilbo’s arm. He gently pulled Bilbo closer until Bilbo sat on the floor next to Thorin and Thorin was able to put an arm around Bilbo and pull him close to his side. “I’m so sorry you’re in this mess.”

“Oh… it… it’s nothing. Don’t worry.” Bilbo stared at his lap and twisted his fingers in nervous agitation. Still, he didn’t make a single move to get away from Thorin’s one-armed hug. “We have to get out of here, though. I have no idea how. There are guards everywhere and they all have weapons. The others haven’t been hurt, but Dori’s mad enough to spit nails. Fili and Kili are beside themselves with worry. Everyone’s going to be so happy when I tell them I’ve found you. What do we do now?” While he spoke, Bilbo’s attention had been drawn, again, to the manacle on Thorin’s wrist. It was a curious thing – obviously dwarven made. “What kind of a thing is this?”

“A lock, of course.” And what a lock it was. There was no key needed. There were a series of sliding bars on cuff around Thorin’s wrist. If the sliding bars were moved in just the right manner the cuff would open and Thorin would walk free – if he could open the cell door. There were thousands of possible combinations. He explained it to Bilbo, but didn’t get the expected look of hopelessness. Rather, Bilbo smiled. 

“It’s a puzzle, then? How clever. Yes, how very clever.” Bilbo grinned up at Thorin. “Luckily for you, I am VERY good with puzzles. I’ll figure it out.”

“This is hardly a game.” Thorin’s voice faded for a moment. “I am happy to see you well. You’re not hurt?”

“No. The spiders didn’t get me. Just a bit hungry.” Bilbo’s smile faltered. “These elves are very different than the ones at Rivendell, aren’t they?”

“Elves are elves.”

“It wasn’t like this at Rivendell!”

In the face of Bilbo’s immense disappointment in elves, Thorin held back his choice words about elves as a whole. No reason to upset him even more.

They sat together for a while and said very little. Thorin took great comfort in the simple fact that Bilbo was alive. He had so feared that the spiders had gotten him or some other tragedy, that it had eaten at him. Bilbo told Thorin about how Kili started acting funny every time Captain Tauriel made her rounds and how Dori had broken out of his cell before three elves had managed to get him into a stronger cell that even he couldn’t break down the door of. But no one was terribly injured… no one was dead. Everyone had been given the same medicine for the spider bites Thorin had been given, so all were well-healed.

After a time, Bilbo said, “I should leave before one of the guards come along and catches me in here.”

Thorin raise an eyebrow. “A sound idea, but how? The door is locked.”

“Yes… well…” His voice trailed away, momentarily. “You see, when I said I should leave, I really should have said that I would hide until the guards came and then I could sneak out.”

“Hide? Where? Behind the bucket?” After all, the room was entirely empty except for the bucket, Thorin, and Bilbo.

Bilbo flushed and seemed nervous. Thorin completely understood. Being so close to elves made him unhappy, too. “It’s entirely possible that maybe – just by accident, mind you! – I might have forgotten to mention something. You see, I can hide in here and the guards will never see me.” As he spoke, Bilbo’s hand drifted down to his waistcoat pocket. “I found this thing, you see. Back in the Misty Mountains when I fell and got separated from the rest of you. I told you I’d met that creature with the big eyes and it - “

The cell door was thrown open and the two elves, one with a bowl of food and the other with a sword, stared down at Bilbo in undisguised astonishment.

Soon, they all stood before Thranduil in the elf king’s throne room.

To say the very least, Thranduil wasn’t impressed.

“Let me understand this,” Thranduil said from where he lounged on his throne. “You found an extra prisoner in with him,” he pointed to where Thorin stood. “And rather than inform your captain, you brought them to me. Why is that one,” he pointed, again, at Thorin. “Here?”

“As the extra one was in his cell, he must be behind this. It’s some sort of plot.”

Thranduil rolled his eyes expressively. “So, in your opinion, Thorin Oakenshield, while suffering several days of starvation and dehydration, not to mention a Spider bite, somehow managed to smuggle someone in under the noses of eight guards while he was so weak he could barely walk. Do you suppose he kept the little one in his pocket?”

Sarcasm was thick as honey in the air.

Thorin had been freed from his cell only to be chained up even more securely. He would have dearly loved to fight, to make them suffer for the indignity of chaining him, but one of the elves had kept a hand on Bilbo’s shoulder the entire time that Thorin was being chained up and Thorin read too much of a threat in that to even consider the risk of fighting. So he stood still and resentfully obedient while the elves chained his feet and hands together. He was able to walk, though only in a slow, undignified shuffle, but he could do little else.

Thranduil’s cold eyes stayed fixed on the elf who’d discovered Bilbo. “Where is Captain Tauriel?”

“We haven’t informed her, Your Majesty. We only discovered him when we went to deliver a meal to the prisoner and we thought it best to bring this matter directly to your attention.”

And Thorin knew what was going on. He remembered being quite young in Erebor and watching the quiet scheming of people associated with palace life. The elf guards, clearly, were vying for Thranduil’s favor and had chosen to step on Captain Tauriel to get that favor.

Apparently, Thranduil didn’t appreciate their effort. The temperature in the throne room seemed to plunge to frigid levels. Thranduil stood, his long robes flowing around him. “You two and I will later discuss the wisdom of what you have chosen to do. For now, you will tell Captain Tauriel that I want to see her, now. After all, someone in her position is answerable for these funny little incidents. If someone wants to be captain of my guard, they must be willing to take responsibility for such things as an intruder going unnoticed in my forest and then in my home for several days before being found in a locked cell with a dangerous prisoner. If you wanted her position, you would have to shoulder that responsibility. Is that something you’re prepared to do?”

The guards’ eyes had gone alarmingly wide.

“No,” Thranduial sneered. “I thought not. In the future you will recall that you are answerable to Captain Tauriel. She is the one I chose to be captain and she is your superior in all ways. She will bring matters to me that require my attention, not you.”

“Yes, Your Majesty. Of course.” The guards were quick to agree. They were also quick to leave the room in search of Captain Tauriel.

Captain Tauriel appeared not five minutes later.

Captain Tauriel took a look around – at Thorin, at her king, and at Bilbo – and said nothing. She stood at attention and waited.

Thranduil said, “Captain, we seem to have an extra… guest. You and I will discuss, later, how this came to be.”

“The prisoners were asking after another member of their party. I’ve had the troops searching the forest.” Captain Tauriel gave Bilbo a considering look. “To hide from everyone in here… very clever.”

“Yes, very clever for a dwarf.”

It surprised Thorin that Thranduil didn’t know what a hobbit was. With how long-lived elves were, he would have supposed that Thranduil would have seen at least one hobbit. Still, as he apparently hadn’t, Thorin had no intention of telling him anything.

Thranduil slowly approached Bilbo and Bilbo, obviously intimidated, backed away from him. “You needn’t fear me.”

Bilbo took another cautious step back, away from the elf and Thorin, enraged at seeing his fosterling in danger, strained against his bindings, but they’d attached his damned chains to the wall, making him little better than a leashed dog. It shamed him to no end that he couldn’t break free and he could do nothing but watch as Thranduil moved to stand right in front of Bilbo. He did try. Thorin shouted at Thranduil to keep away from Bilbo and he strained violently at his manacles until blood ran down his hands. 

Thranduil wore a kindly mask – Thorin didn’t believe it for a moment – but Bilbo attempted to keep a good distance between the two of them until he backed himself against a wall and had nowhere else to go. Thrandiul knelt down on one knee and even then he was still taller than Bilbo. He reached out as if he would touch Bilbo’s face, but Bilbo jerked away.

“Now, see here,” Bilbo said with a little tremble in his voice. “I really am sorry if I surprised anyone… didn’t mean it. Dreadfully rude to just wander about someone’s home. Should have introduced myself.” He was babbling and, despite his polite words, his eyes were wide with dread. “Didn’t mean any harm. None at all.”

Thrandiul waited a moment, then reached out again and ran his fingers lightly down the side of Bilbo’s face.

“There?” Thrandiul said, quietly. He favored Bilbo with a warm smile. “You see? I won’t hurt you. You have my word on that. Now, what’s your name, child?”

Bilbo blinked. “Child? But…”

Thranduil frowned. “Your ears.” He gave Bilbo a puzzled look before a thought appeared to dawn on him. His eyes widened with shock. “You have elf blood.”

“No, I don’t!” Bilbo protested, quickly.

“No need to be embarrassed. No one here will hold such a thing as you having a dwarf parent against you. That you have a dwarf parent is unfortunate, but not your fault. You are welcome in my home, if it is more than a little displeasing about your current traveling companions.”

“They’re not travel companions,” Bilbo blustered. “They’re family!”

“Really?”

Bilbo shot a cautious look at Thorin, as if he were afraid Thorin would argue the point, then bravely squared his shoulders. “Yes, really! And you had best let my dwarves go, or… or…”

Thranduil looked amused at Bilbo’s fit of temper. “Or… what?”

“Or… well, I don’t rightly know, but it will be something quite unpleasant! You can’t just go around locking people up for no reason! It’s downright uncivilized!”

Thranduil smiled, tolerantly. “You so remind me of my child at a young age. It is uncanny. He, too, was a fresh-mouthed little frog.”

Bilbo’s mouth fell open. “…frog…?”

Thranduil nodded. “Yes. Now, little frog, tell me how you managed to slip into my home undetected when I had your,” he pulled an unhappy face. “Dwarves escorted here.”

“I’m just quick and quiet.” Bilbo left it at that, which was good, but Thorin also wished to know how Bilbo had managed to creep in without any of the elves noticing. No matter, he decided. Bilbo would tell him after they got out of Mirkwood. “I don’t understand why everyone’s locked up. We didn’t do anything wrong. Did we?”

It gave Thorin a great wave of satisfaction that Thranduil had no ready answer. He snarled, “What’s wrong? Can’t you think of a lie to tell the child that explains why he’s here?”

Thranduil replied, heatedly, “That child is here because fool dwarves decided to drag him around through the dangerous wilds!”

Bilbo, who looked completely bewildered, looked at Thorin, then at Thranduil. Then he looked back at Thorin. Bilbo’s eyes went wide. His mouth fell open. Without any further warning, Bilbo suddenly threw back his head and wailed, “I want my dad!”

Thranduil and Thorin stared.

Bilbo bowed his head and put his hands over his face as he bawled. His whole body heaved with the effort and he made uncomfortable choking sounds as his breath caught in his throat while he cried. It was the most pitiful sight Thorin had ever seen.

Thorin glared at Thranduil and Thranduil glared right back. They both snarled at each other, “Look what you did!”

“Me?!” Thranduil rose to his full height to glare down at Thorin. “You're the one who put him in the path of the Spiders and led him to trespass in my land!”

“We were on the path – a path built by dwarves, I might add! – and all we wanted to do was get out of Mirkwood! He’s obviously upset because he’s surrounded by fiendish elves!”

Bilbo kept crying.

To Thorin’s rage, Thranduil was with Bilbo at once. Down on one knee with his long robes spread out around him, Thranduil pulled Bilbo close and held him gently, petting his curly hair and muttering soothing nonsense. But Bilbo kept his face covered and kept sobbing. At one point, Bilbo uncovered his face just enough to look at Thorin over Thranduil’s shoulder and winked. It surprised Thorin so much that he stopped yelling at Thranduil to get away from Bilbo.

“And who is your father?” Thranduil asked Bilbo, his voice soft and tender.

“His… his name’s Dori.” Bilbo uncovered his face and looked up at Thranduil with huge, teary eyes. “Please. Please, let me see my dad.”

Not even Sauron could resist a weepy hobbit.

“Captain!” Thranduil said to Captain Tauriel. “Take the child to his father in the cells.”

“Yes, sir.” Her face softened a bit when she put a hand on Bilbo’s shoulder to lead him away.

Just at the door of the throne room, Bilbo broke away from Tauriel and ran to Thorin. Thorin wasn’t all that surprised when Bilbo threw his arms around him for a hug. He knew well enough that young ones needed comfort in such trying times. Bilbo pressed his face into Thorin’s throat and whispered, “I’ll think of something.” Then he was led away by Captain Tauriel and Thorin was hauled back to his cell.

To be continued…


	16. Little Acorn

Chapter 16: Little Acorn

 

Escorted from King Thranduil’s throne room by Captain Tauriel, Bilbo walked in a sort of numb daze. With a sniffle, he wiped his face with his hands then stuffed his hands in his pockets and hoped they would stop shaking. His sudden realization that everyone around him thought he was a child had helped create the tears for his little performance in King Thranduil’s throne room that had ended up in getting him an escort right to Dori. Bilbo’s plan of crying for his father in front of King Thranduil had been the only thing Bilbo had been able to think of that would get him to Dori whom, he hoped, would have a plan for escape. After all, if everyone thought he was a child, then he might as well use that to his advantage.

The performance he’d given in front of King Thranduil had been acting, but tears had been quite real. Of course he’d cried. What else could he do with the knowledge that he was such a complete, undeniably thick idiot?

Bilbo’s dwarves thought he was a child and he hadn’t had a clue until both Thorin and the elf king had shouted it right in front of him. Gracious, if they hadn’t, he’d have probably gone the next twenty years without realizing why Thorin wouldn’t let him smoke!

Bilbo had never been so shamed in his entire life.

‘Oh!’ He thought miserably. ‘Bilbo Baggins, you are a fool! An utter fool.’

The more he thought about it, the more Bilbo cringed. He’d been so stupid. How could a person not notice that everyone around him thought such a thing? He’d thought they were just being kind to him and here they had only… what? Felt pity for him? For the poor little orphan left to fend for himself in the world? Or was it some sort of elaborate joke? Perhaps they didn’t really think he was a child and only treated him as one to amuse themselves; see how long they could mock the hobbit before he noticed? Did they all laugh at him behind his back? No. He couldn’t believe any of them were in the least bit cruel, so they must honestly believe that he was a child.

What was he going to do about it?

Bilbo started chewing his thumbnail.

He would have to tell them the truth, but… what then? What if they were angry? What if they thought he’d been deceiving them the whole time he’d known them? They would cast him off. Oh, they would surely keep him around long enough to fulfill the contract and they would undoubtedly pay him his percentage of the treasure and he knew they wouldn’t just send him away empty-handed. They would send him away with arms and supplies and perhaps even a guard to keep him safe, but still… they would send him away. The offer of a home in Erebor would be gone. Fili and Kili would be so confused; the poor young dears wouldn’t understand such a mistake. Gloin was sure to shout while Oin would glower and ‘tut’ with disapproval. Dwalin would shake his head at Bilbo with heart-felt disappointment and Balin would get that awful hurt look in his eyes before he turned his face away from Bilbo. Bifur would pull his beard with distress and Bombur, always gentle Bombur, would try to be kind, but he would be angry, too. Ori, too, would sulk and think Bilbo had been playing a joke on them. Bofur certainly wouldn’t want to teach him. Nori would never speak to him, again. Bilbo felt his throat constrict with fear and self-hate when he thought about what Thorin and Dori would think and say and do. 

It made Bilbo’s heart hurt. He had to tell them the truth, but he would lose all his dwarves if he did! He couldn’t lose them. He just couldn’t! He wanted to find a hole to hide in. 

While those miserable thoughts ran circles round and round in Bilbo’s head, he obediently followed his escort though the halls of the Wood Elves home. Captain Tauriel, a lovely lady with striking red hair, escorted Bilbo quietly though the winding halls as they made their way to the cells. Of course, Bilbo knew where the cells were as he’d been creeping around the place for a couple of days, but he didn’t think it a good idea to tell her that. She had been kind to him and her hand on his shoulder was gentle, but Bilbo was sunk in his misery and felt like he was going to drown in it.

“I will leave you alone with your father for a few minutes,” Captain Tauriel told Bilbo after a time. “I will not leave you there for the night, though. You will be given a room of your own, but you must be good and obedient. His Majesty doesn’t want to lock up a child anywhere so you’ll get a nice room. There will be a guard on the door to keep you safe.”

Bilbo frowned. “But… I want to be with my dwarves.”

“I know.” Her look was all sympathy. “I’ll try to get you to them as often as possible to visit, but it’s just not right for you to be in a cell. It will be a very nice room, I promise.”

“But I am NOT a child!” If he weren’t trying to convince people that he was an adult, Bilbo might have stomped his foot in frustration. “It’s all been an awful mistake and I most certainly can be in a cell if that’s where my dwarves are!”

She gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze. “Don’t get yourself worked up, Little Acorn. Everything will work out; you don’t need to be worried for your friends or your father.”

Little Acorn? Bilbo huffed, but kept walking. First he was ‘Little Bunny’ to Beorn, then ‘Little Frog’ to King Thranduil, and now he was Captain Tauriel’s ‘Little Acorn’. ‘Next thing I know the dragon will be calling me ‘Little Lizard’!’ Bilbo shuttered at the thought. He didn’t need a pet name from a dragon!

The home of the Wood Elves was quite unlike anything Bilbo had ever imagined. It was mostly underground, which was quite sensible in Bilbo’s estimation and he was fairly certain his dwarves would agree with him on that. However, the elves’ home wasn’t made of wood built under a hill as a hobbit’s home would be, nor was it stone as a dwarves home might be. It was alive. Bilbo could feel it in his feet with every step he took, just as he’d been able to feel the sickness that nearly saturated Mirkwood when he’d walked on its soil, he could feel the life of the elves’ home. The ground under Bilbo’s feet was warm and hard, but not as hard as stone. Everything - the walls, the floors, the ceiling – were all a sort of brown / green color. It had puzzled him all the time he’d been in the elves’ home, but he hadn’t been able to figure out what the place was. 

Bilbo looked up at Captain Tauriel. “What is this place?”

“Home.”

“Yes, yes, but what IS it?”

“A tree.”

“A tree?”

“A tree.”

Bilbo looked up. The ceiling was a good fourteen feet above his head. “How… there is no tree so big. This can’t be a tree!”

If anything, Bilbo’s outburst seemed to amuse Captain Tauriel. She smiled down at him. “A great many years ago, a single oak tree was… well… encouraged to grow. Yes, I think ‘encouraged’ would be the correct word. It was encouraged to grow and,” she gestured to the long halls around them. “Here we are. We are currently in the roots. Your dwarves are nearby.”

The cells were all in a single long hall with a guard posted at the entrance of the hall. There was only one way in and out of the hall. Cells doors lined each side of the hall and all the dwarves stood at the doors of their cells, watching as Bilbo was led in. To see his dwarves kept in cells rankled. His dwarves were being KEPT as if they were someone’s new mathoms. He didn’t like it. He didn’t like it one little bit.

At the very end of the hall was a door quite unlike the others. Where Bilbo could see into the cells his dwarves were being kept in, that last door was solid and made of metal. It was the cell the elves had moved Dori to when they realized he was too strong to be kept in a normal cell. Captain Tauriel took the ring of keys from the guard on duty and unlocked that last door. Inside, Dori paced. He took one look at Bilbo before pulling him into a warm embrace.

“Only a few minutes,” Captain Tauriel warned. “I’ll be just outside.”

As elves had superb hearing, Bilbo couldn’t say anything too revealing for fear of Captain Tauriel hearing though the door. He wasn’t entirely disappointed that he couldn’t tell Dori the truth about his age. He told Dori about being caught in Thorin’s cell and about the manacle he’d seen Thorin wearing. He told Dori what King Thranduil had said and done. “I’m so happy to see you, dad,” Bilbo made sure to emphasize the word ‘dad’ to be sure Dori knew about that little deception and wouldn’t give away the game.

Dori looked surprised at being called ‘dad’, but then got a funny teary look in his eyes before he gave Bilbo an extra tight squeeze. “And I’m very pleased to hear it. I don’t want you to worry over much. We’ll get out of here… somehow.” They sat together on the floor in the room. Like Thorin’s cell, Dori didn’t have the luxury of a cot.

“Well, I hope you have a better idea than I do. I can’t think of any way out. There are guards everywhere and this whole place is like a rabbit warren – a real maze. I’m surprised I didn’t get lost in here.”

“I seem to be running dry on ideas.” Dori looked at the still closed door before he reached for his boot. He pulled from inside his boot a small paper envelope and handed it to Bilbo. “Now, you listen to me – I want you to get plenty of sleep. This is a bad situation, but you need to sleep.” Dori jabbed his finger at the envelope in Bilbo’s hands. “Even if you’re not tired, you sleep. Understand? And drink something. You can drink water or milk or even wine, but you must drink, too.”

Bilbo had no idea at all what Dori was going on about. He tucked the little envelope in his pocket and obligingly nodded. “Yes, dad.”

For a short while they sat side-by-side in silence and Bilbo, though he knew he shouldn’t because Bilbo was really too old to be treated like a child no matter what Dori thought, leaned a bit against Dori’s side. ‘That Captain Tauriel is listening at the door and elves have excellent hearing so it’s only reasonable that I keep up the act. Wouldn’t do to have the elves get suspicious and realize I’m an adult,’ he justified to himself. ‘I can creep around better if I’m in an unlocked room than if I’m shut up down here with everyone else. Leaning on Dori has absolutely nothing at all to do with the fact that he’s big and warm and strong and safe.’ 

“I’ll do what I can about Thorin,” Bilbo promised. But he really didn’t know what he was going to do. He had always been fond of puzzles, but how to open Thorin’s manacle was a puzzle that certainly wouldn’t be simple. “Do you think we’ll be here very long?”

“We’ll be out as soon as possible. Don’t you fret about Thorin; he can take care of himself.”

There was nothing else Bilbo could say without the risk of giving himself away to the enemy. He rather wanted to tell Dori about the magic ring that let him walk about invisible, but he felt sure that if the elves heard about it, they would take it away and he couldn’t have that. It was his ring. His special treasure.

After a time, the door of Dori’s cell opened and Captain Tauriel stepped in. “I’m afraid your time is up. We need to go, now.”

And that was it. Dori gave Bilbo a last, quick hug before Bilbo reluctantly left.

As they walked down the hall of the cells to the exit, all Bilbo’s dwarves shouted out encouragement for him - all but Nori. Nori looked at Bilbo that was such shame in his eyes that it hurt Bilbo. “I’m sorry,” Nori muttered. “I’m a rotten protector.”

Captain Tauriel led Bilbo away before he could argue with Nori, or assure him that Bilbo didn’t blame him for anything, or tell him that he was a wonderful protector.

Bilbo was next taken to the room he was to use. It was quite a nice room, really. There was a cheery fire on the hearth and bed that looked as comfortable as sleeping on a bed of soft moss. The bed was heaped high with blankets and feather pillows. There were toys scattered here and there, blocks and carved animals and a doll on the bed. For one horrible moment, Bilbo thought they’d put him in some child’s room and wondered where they had put the poor child.

“This was Prince Legolas’ room when he was a child. He’s very happy to let you use it, but don’t be surprised if he sneaks in to get his Mooky.” Captain Tauriel pointed at the ragdoll on the bed. “He’s not as grown-up as he likes everyone to think. And try not to worry; I’m sure everything will work out between your prince and my king and you’ll be on your way in no time.”

“Yes, miss.”

“There’s a plate of food and some water on the table, so try to eat something. You’ll find night clothes in the wardrobe and one of the guards will check on you in about an hour. I expect you to be in bed and asleep. Remember to blow out the candles.”

“Yes, miss.”

She smiled at Bilbo and it was as warm and lovely as the rising sun. “Such a sweet lad. No wonder your dwarves are so very fond of you. Do you need company tonight? I won’t leave you alone if you are lonely.”

“No, miss. I’m quite alright. Thank you.”

“As you wish. If you need something, tell the guard at the door and he’ll see that it gets done.” In a reassuring tone, she told him, “You’re quite safe here. The guard on the door is very reliable and King Thranduil’s chambers are just down the hall, so this place is excellently guarded. There’s nothing for you to worry about.” 

After Captain Tauriel left, Bilbo busied himself with eating and drinking. When that was done, he sat on the bed and pulled from his pocket the envelope Dori had given him. Upon opening it, he found that the envelope was full of a white powder and still had no idea what Dori had given him. He just had to get back down to the cells to ask Dori what it was for. He hoped Dori wasn’t expecting him to poison someone, though it might make the whole situation easier if King Thranduil suddenly dropped dead.

‘No!’ Bilbo sternly told himself. ‘That’s a terrible thought!’ He had the oddest feeling that his ring approved of the idea, though.

Bilbo only just stuffed the little envelope back in his pocket when the door opened and Prince Legolas walked in. He was just as pretty as ever, but there was a worried, uncomfortable look in his eyes. He closed the door behind him and simply stood there for a moment, shifting awkwardly back and forth on his feet. 

When it seemed that the young prince wasn’t going to speak, Bilbo asked, “Did you come for your Mooky? Captain Tauriel told me its name.”

Prince Legolas blushed.

The look of utter mortification as he looked down at his Mooky and then up at Bilbo was almost enough to make Bilbo forget his role of a child as he wanted to pat the prince on the head and reassure him that it was perfectly alright for him to want his doll. But Bilbo kept the act in mind and simply said, “You can take it. I don’t like dolls, much.”

Again, Prince Legolas looked down at his doll, then shook his head, and said, with the air of someone making a supreme sacrifice for the greater good, “No. It’s alright. I don’t really need him.” He looked remarkably sad when he said it. Then he gave Bilbo a rather forced smile. “I’m sure you need him more than I do, anyway. It must be hard to be separated from your father and in a strange place. So I’ll leave him here with you. For now. When you’re done with him, I’ll take him back.”

There was such warm compassion in the young prince’s face that Bilbo simply couldn’t bear to do anything but return the smile and thank him. After all, it looked like it almost hurt Prince Legolas to lend out his doll. How old was the prince? While he was a good many feet taller than Bilbo, his eyes were clear and bright and innocent as only a youth’s would be. Perhaps he wasn’t quite the adult he appeared to be.

Bilbo hugged the doll to his chest and gave Prince Legolas what he hoped was a confidant, reassuring smile, though he feared he’d failed rather dreadfully. “I’ll take good care of your Mooky.”

Prince Legolas smiled at Bilbo and left. So, alone in a room with toys and dolls and picture books and bright colored tapestries hanging on the walls, Bilbo was in his own little prison. The guard at the door wasn’t likely to move for any excuse and there were no windows or other doors for Bilbo to use as an escape route. It wasn’t at all reassuring to know that King Thranduil was asleep just a few yards down the hall. And even if he did manage to get out, he couldn’t go anywhere without his dwarves.

The fire was cheery and warm and the bed was softer than anything Bilbo could imagine. He didn’t even think his bed back in Bag End was quite so nice. So, without any ideas about what he ought to do about the whole sorry mess, Bilbo sat on the bed and rested his elbows on his knees with his chin in his hands while he thought. He set Mooky on the bed, reclining against the pillow. He needed to think of a plan. Everyone was depending on him.

The guard at the door looked in, then closed the door.

About a quarter of an hour later, he looked in, again, then closed the door.

Experimentaly, Bilbo blew out the candles and lay down on the bed. Shortly after, the guard checked on Bilbo, again, but after that, Bilbo was left undisturbed. He stayed awake as long as he could and the guard didn’t look in on him, again.

An idea struck Bilbo just before he fell asleep.

The next day, Bilbo was taken twice to visit Dori as the elves appeared to believe that Bilbo would suffer untold stress from being separated from his father and Bilbo, who was always happy to see his dwarves, didn’t feel any need to disabuse them of the notion. He was fairly certain that he WOULD suffer if he was kept away from his dwarves for any length of time. While he tried to ask Dori about the powder, he couldn’t think of a way of doing it without letting Captain Tauriel, standing just on the other side of the door, know there was a plot going on.

That night, Bilbo had finally settled on a plan. He was almost certain it would fail, but had no better ideas, so he decided to take the risk.

In the room he’d been given, Bilbo waited until the guard check on him. Then, when the guard closed the door, Bilbo rushed to pull clothes from the wardrobe and stuffed them under the blankets of the bed. He worked for a minute to make it all roughly hobbit-shaped. In the end he had what he hoped was a convincing Bilbo-decoy. With luck, the guard would see only the lumpy bed and assume Bilbo was fast asleep. When the time drew near to the regular check-in, Bilbo blew out all the candles and slipped on his ring and felt himself fall into that strange place where the world around him was all shadows and the colors faded to gray. The guard opened the door to look in and in that moment, Bilbo slipped out. He was utterly shocked that the guard didn’t immediately begin shouting that the prisoner was gone. Instead, the guard closed the door and simply stood there. Obviously, the Bilbo-decoy had worked.

A quick walk through the halls brought Bilbo to Thorin’s cell. There was no guard on that door and Bilbo supposed that as the cell was locked and Thorin was chained to the floor, the elves had decided that a guard on the door was unnecessary. Bilbo eyed the lock on Thorin’s door.

“Thorin, I need to get in,” Bilbo whispered as loudly as he could. “How do I get one of the guards to come here?”

“Hide.” Thorin said.

“Yes, Thorin.” As Bilbo was still wearing the magic ring, all he had to do was stand out of the way.

Thorin began yelling. He yelled and screamed and swore so loudly that Bilbo was sure Thorin could be heard all over Mirkwood. Within a minute, a guard came along to find out what the fuss was about. He took a key from a ring hanging at his belt and unlocked the door long enough to look in. Thorin went quiet the minute the door opened.

“What’s the problem?” The elf demanded.

“I’m being held prisoner and I wanted to express my displeasure,” Thorin replied, dryly.

With a look of great annoyance, the guard closed the door and locked it. He hung the key on his key ring and turned to walk away. As he did, Bilbo carefully stole the keyring. He found the correct key and unlocked Thorin’s cell. Bilbo took off his ring before he opened the door and walked in. He kept the key as he knew he’d need it later.

He showed the envelope from Dori to Thorin who, sounding quite proud, told Bilbo that Dori had given him a sleeping powder. “We’ll be able to use it to get passed the guards if we can get them to drink it.” Thorin smiled. “My brilliant, perfect Dori!”

And, just like that, Bilbo had a plan. “We need to wait until tomorrow night,” he told Thorin. “The elves are having a party and I heard the guard at my door tell someone that everyone was going to go except one or two who have to guard the prisoners and guards at the entrances. I can slip passed my guard and they don’t put a guard on your door because you’re chained to the floor as well as being behind a locked door. We just have to the put to sleep the one guarding everyone else.” With that, Bilbo turned his attention back to the manacle with renewed optimism.

It took Bilbo until the next night to figure out the secret of unlocking Thorin’s manacle. He used the stolen key to visit Thorin that night after, again, making it look as if he were asleep in bed when the guard at his own door checked on him. Bilbo had to play with the little sliding bars on Thorin's manacle for a while before he figured it out. It wasn’t easy. He moved those little bars every way he could think of, but the metal cuff on Thorin’s wrist didn’t open. “Thorin,” Bilbo said. “I just can’t figure out how to do this. How did they unchain you when they took you to see King Thranduil?”

“They blindfolded me so I could see how it was done. Bilbo, you need to leave.” Thorin put his free hand on Bilbo’s shoulder. “You go back to the prison and free the others. I want you all out of here.”

“I can’t leave you here. Let me try, again.” Again and again, Bilbo tried, but he couldn’t figure out how those little bars should be moved. He was just beginning to lose hope when he happened to look down and his eyes landed on the chain between the cuff on Thorin’s wrist and the floor. Two of the chain’s links were a bit shiny, as if they’d been polished. “Thorin, do you think this manacle is old?”

Thorin gave the cuff a considering look. “Fairly so. Perhaps a couple of hundred years old.”

“So, it’s probably been used quite often. And the mechanism to open it would have been used a lot. Maybe, they’d have been touched so much that the metal might even look polished.” Bilbo took both of those shiny links in his hands. He squeezed those two links and the cuff on Thorin’s wrist popped open and fell right into Thorin’s lap.

Thorin stared at the cuff for a moment. “The links? I’ve been messing around with the cuff since I got put in here and it was the links?” He let out a disgusted grumble, but smiled at Bilbo. “Good thing I have you around.” Then, with Thorin free, they were off to get the others.

“Wait, Thorin,” Bilbo said before they left the cell. “I have a plan. There are still guards at the main doors and I’m pretty sure a whole group of dwarves won’t be able to sneak by them. You’ll let me try my idea, won’t you?”

A short time later, with a stolen bottle of wine liberally dosed with Dori’s sleeping powder, Bilbo stood in front of prison guard – the only guard on duty at that moment.

“You should be sleeping, child,” the guard told him with mild disapproval.

“I snuck out,” Bilbo admitted, sheepishly. “But, look what I found.” He held up the wine bottle. “I brought it for my dwarves,” Bilbo said in the smallest, most timid voice he could manage. “They can have it, can’t they? I saw everyone upstairs celebrating and I didn’t think anyone would mind. Everyone upstairs looked like they were having such a good time. There was feasting and singing and such a good time. I thought it an awful shame that people should be stuck down here when everyone up there was having so much fun.”

The elf guard, with the cell keys dangling on his belt, started to smile. He took the bottle of wine from Bilbo. “I’ll make sure they get it.”

‘Hook, line, and sinker,’ Bilbo thought, triumphantly.

Bilbo left the prison and turned a corner where Thorin waited for him. They waited. After a few minutes, they heard a loud snore.

A peek back into the prison showed Bilbo that guard was sitting on the floor and sleeping deeply. Nori’s drug had worked perfectly. Bilbo started to inch his way in, but Thorin set a heavy hand on Bilbo’s shoulder to stop him. When Bilbo looked over his shoulder at Thorin, Thorin simply held up a finger to his lips to signal for silence before he pointed sharply at the floor, clearly indicating that Bilbo ought to stay put. Then, to Bilbo’s indignation, Thorin crept to the guard and slipped the key ring off his belt.

‘It was MY plan!’ Bilbo thought, watching while Thorin unlocked all the doors of the cells. There was silent rejoicing and hugs and slaps on the back. Nori went straight to Bilbo and did his usual routine of looking injuries (there weren’t any) or any signs that elves had been cruel (they hadn’t been) before he was satisfied. Bofur did much the same, though he was all smiles and gave Bilbo a rough pat on the back to show how pleased he was to see Bilbo. When they started down the hall, Bofur threw an arm over Nori’s shoulder and left it there. In silence, they all slipped out of the prison hall and towards freedom. Bilbo, as he’d had free run of the elves’ home for a few days and knew the lay-out best, made his way to the front of the group with Thorin. He urged Thorin this way and that, at one point reassuring Thorin that it was the way to the exit. It was the only exit he’d been able to find without a guard. The wine cellar.

The wine cellar was a huge room crowded with bottles as well as great barrels of wine. Several of the barrels were empty and waited in a neat rows, all ready to be put into the river by means of a lever that would, Bilbo had learned during his invisible creeping around, lower the floor enough for the barrels to easily roll into the river and get washed downstream. The swift-moving river roared just below the floor of the wine cellar. It was nearly a perfect escape. Once in the wine cellar with the door closed carefully behind them, they were able to talk and Bilbo urged them all to get in the empty barrels.

“It’s all very simple. I’ve given it quite a lot of thought. Just… get in the barrels.”

The dwarves stared at him. Fili looked over his shoulder at the barrels. “In the barrels?”

“Yes. In the barrels. Please, you must hurry. We don’t know how much time we have.” Bilbo gestured, again, at the wine barrels. “Please? It’ll work, I’m sure of it. I’ll roll your barrels into the river and then the river will carry you downstream. I heard the guards talking and the barrels will go straight to Laketown. That’s right next to Erebor, isn’t it? I was sure I got it right.”

“Yes,” Balin said, slowly, as if he were thinking deeply about his answer. “Yes, Laketown is quite near Erebor. However, I’m not entirely certain that riding in barrels down the river is really the best way to go about this.”

Bilbo felt his nerve waver, but knew that it was that moment when he could convince them that he most definitely wasn’t a child. He could show them that he was just as sensible and useful as anyone else on the quest. So he squared his shoulders and made his voice as steady as possible. “It really is. I can’t find any other way out of this place that isn’t heavily guarded. Using the river will be very fast and the barrels will help us float.” He didn’t want to point out that he could swim about as well as a rock and would very much like a barrel if this was the only way out. “I can’t even find everyone’s weapons so all we’ve got to go against the dragon is my little sword and our wits.”

Thorin rubbed his face with both hands. “Wits… we’re doomed.”

“Now, now,” Bofur said, very cheerfully. “It’s not as bad as all that. I’m sure we’ll be able to find a few rocks to throw at him.”

Thorin growled, “You’re not helping.”

“Bilbo, lad,” Balin said, gently. “The thing is - do you know how strong that river is? We’re likely to be bashed to pieces.”

“But… what else can we do?”

No one had any answer.

Bombur started to inspect one of the barrels and announced in his quiet way, “I am NOT spending the rest of my life here.”

And so it was reluctantly agreed to use Bilbo’s plan as no one had any better ideas and there was no better time to escape. Thorin gave a decisive nod. “Everyone in. Now!” 

With the decision made, Bilbo found his eyes unavoidably drawn to the lever on the side of the wall that would lower part of the floor and allow the barrels to roll into the river below. He would pull that lever. He would wait until everyone was safely in their barrels and he would pull it and save everyone. Of course, that meant he wouldn’t be in a barrel and would have to jump… into a raging river… alone.

‘I’m going to die.’

“Bilbo,” Dori stood next to Bilbo and said, “Arms up!”

It was said so sharply that Bilbo obeyed by instinct and had his arms up over his head without thinking. Dori immediately picked him up under the arms and carried him, wiggling and protesting the whole way, over to where Nori waited in his barrel. He easily handed Bilbo in to Nori and sternly told him, “You stay in there. No disappearing, no wandering off! I know we’re going to be hurdling down a deep river at a furious pace and we’ll probably be pursued by miffed elves, but if there is a way to wander off, I’m sure you’d be able to find it, so… don’t!”

Bilbo was so surprised that he said nothing.

Dori turned to face Thorin. “Your turn.”

“Dori…” Thorin gave a significant look to the lever. “Someone has to…”

“Yes, yes, someone has to pull it so everyone can escape, but that someone isn’t you. What good is regaining a kingdom if we don’t have a king for it?”

“Fili…”

“Don’t you dare!” Fili snapped with a scowl that wasn’t nearly so intimidating as his uncle’s. “I am NOT being king because you don’t want to get in a barrel. Do what Dori says!”

Thorin looked back at Dori. “He sounds just like his mother.”

In the end, Dori managed to bully Thorin into one of the barrels. With everyone securely in a barrel, except Dori, they were ready to make their great escape.

“Wait a minute. Just wait. What about Dori?” Bilbo whispered, urgently to Nori. “He can’t just stay behind!”

“He won’t. Dori has a plan.”

“What is it?”

“I have no idea.” Only then did Bilbo realize that Nori was watching Dori with nearly as much agitation as Bilbo felt.

Dori pulled the lever and they plunged down, splashing into the river.

Bilbo felt the floor dropped out from under his feet. For a spit second, he was floating, then the barrel hit the water with such force that Bilbo fell to his knees in the barrel. Water poured in over his head so violently that he feared he’d drown right in the bottom of that barrel, but Nori grabbed him by the collar and hauled him to his feet. When Bilbo stood, the water came almost to his knees, but thankfully, the barrel stayed upright. After the plunge into the river, the barrels all righted themselves and the dwarves were all able to stand up in them as they bobbed like corks in the water. Bilbo watched the river and the riverbanks rush by, the spray of cold water on his face stung as badly as slaps to the face.

Up and down they went, side-to-side and spinning around as the river manhandled their barrels and they were helpless to do anything about it. Then there were elves running alongside the river shooting at them and there were orcs and Kili was wounded and finally – finally! – it was over. They arrived in Laketown.

Washed up on a rocky shore, the dwarves and Bilbo hauled themselves out of the barrels. Bilbo, after he helped Balin to crawl out of his barrel and found Oin’s ear trumpet for him, sat heavily on the rocky shore of the river. He was exhausted and soaked the bone and felt rather ill.

“Dori?” Thorin called out. He stood and looked around at all his people. His scowl deepened and he raised his voice. “Dori!” There was no answer. The whole group, realizing what was wrong, went quiet. Nori and Ori got to their feet. Ori looked like he might cry and Nori’s hands clenched at his sides. Thorin turned away from the group and to the river. He looked up and down the river and cupped his hands around his mouth to amplify his voice. “Dori?! Where are you?” 

No answer.

Bilbo wrapped his arms around himself. “He’s still back at the elves, right?” Bilbo asked no one in particular. “He didn’t get in a barrel, so he stayed behind. We can go back and get him. Right? Can’t we? Thorin?”

Thorin, very pale and with river water dripping down his face, didn’t answer or even look at Bilbo. “Oh… Dori…”

To be continued…


	17. Battle

Chapter 17: Battle

 

Dori watched the barrels tumble into the churning, roaring river and heard, above that thunderous noise of the water, yelps and cries of surprise from his people when they fell. In the blink of an eye they were gone.

‘Right. No time to waste.’

Dori had it all planned out. He would take one of the other wine barrels, now that the large hatch in the floor that opened onto the river was open, he would escape that way, too, only he would hold onto his barrel when he jumped and use it to float. His strength was more than enough to ensure that he wouldn’t lose the barrel, even if the river was as unkind as it looked and bashed him around from bank to bank. 

“Oh, dear.”

Dori spun around at the unexpected voice only to find Prince Legolas standing behind him. The young prince stood in the doorway of the wine cellar with his mouth agape as he stared at the open hatch in the floor the rest of Dori’s companions had used to escape into the torrent of the river. He looked sharply at Dori then called over his shoulder. “Tauriel! Tauriel!”

He had hardly closed his mouth before the captain of the guard appeared behind him. She, too, looked at the open hatched. Then she looked to where the twelve empty wine barrels had been stored before they’d been taken by the dwarves. She grimaced and rolled his eyes. “Lovely,” she said, dryly, as she turned to Prince Legolas. “Your father is going to have kittens.”

“You’re not joking. He wanted to keep the barrels. He was going to plant tomatoes in them in the spring.”

Captain Tauriel gently smacked his arm. “I meant the missing prisoners.”

“Oh, yes. Yes, that’s bad, too.” Prince Legolas looked imploringly at Dori. “Did the little fellow, Bilbo, take a doll with him? A rag doll with black yarn hair?”

“Think about your Mooky later!”

Prince Legolas turned red and hissed at her, “It’s not my doll! It’s just… a…. it’s someone’s doll, but not mine.” He shot a worried, embarrassed look at Dori. “I do NOT play with dolls!”

Captain Tauriel rolled her eyes. “You go and tell your father that the prisoners have escaped. Go.”

“Me? Why me?”

“Because if you think I’m going to tell him that I left you alone with one of the dangerous prisoners, you’ve got another think coming. Off with you!” Captain Tauriel waited until Prince Legolas had run off before she looked back at Dori, just in time to see him making his way towards the open hatch. At once her bow was in her hand and an arrow notched and at the ready to fly. “I’ll ask that you not do that. I understand your wish to get away, but I can’t allow that and I would hate to make this whole situation messy.”

“I will not stand around waiting to be captured.”

“You already ARE captured. The rest is mere formality.” Her voice softened. “Please, think of Bilbo. What will he do without you?”

It was a low blow, but one that Dori would have used in a similar situation. If he died on that spot, an arrow to heart or head, what good would he be to anyone? Dori lowered his arms to his sides and faced the palms of his hands towards Captain Tauriel in the hopes that she would recognize that he was unarmed. That didn’t make him any less dangerous, but there was no reason to tell her that.

There was a moment of quiet. Captain Tauriel was, as elves were wont to be, exceedingly patient. She didn’t move a muscle, didn’t even blink while she waited for reinforcements. It was wise. King Thranduil would know who Dori was simply by his braids, even if he hadn’t known them before Smaug had taken Erebor. He surely would have warned the captain of his guard against Dori.

“The dark, young one,” Captain Tauriel spoke suddenly and it startled Dori. He didn’t like being startled. “He said… things to me. In the cells.”

At the memory of Kili’s blatant, clumsy attempts at flirting, Dori grimaced. “Yes, well… he’s young. He didn’t mean insult.”

“I wasn’t sure. I hear such things about dwarves.” Her bright eyes took on a curious look, as if she were measuring Dori against what rumors she’d heard about Dwarves.

Dori wondered how he measured up.

“Is he old enough to be playing such games? It was my understanding that adult dwarves wore facial hair. His facial hair seems a touch… under grown.”

That was more tactful than most dwarves would say about Kili’s beard. “He’s grown. Young, but an adult.” Dori didn’t like the direction the conversation seemed to be taken. “You take my word – don’t start that battle unless you’re willing to see it through to the end. His family won’t take well to someone playing light and easy with his heart.” Dori certainly wouldn’t take it easy, either, and the relations between the dwarves and the elves would suffer even further if she was of a mind to play games with Kili’s infatuation. 

She raised her chin, haughtily. “I have no interesting in playing light and easy with anyone’s heart, least of all an ill-manner youth so callow that he’s unable to even keep his hair tidy.”

That was a relief. Dori wouldn’t have to talk to Thorin about Kili’s continued fascination with elves if the girl wasn't interested in Kili. Of course, Thorin, who doted on his nephews, would support Kili no matter who he chose as partner. It would just be a bitter pill to swallow if that partner should happen to belong to King Thranduil. ‘I should have encouraged Kili to talk to that musician at Rivendell,’ Dori thought, regretfully. ‘If he truly wants an elf, one of Lord Elrond’s dark-haired elves would have been preferable to one of King Thranduil’s people.’ 

“What do you plan to do with me? You know we’re guilty of nothing. You’re the one who found us out on that path, all of us still weak from the Spider’s venom. We certainly aren’t a force you have to fear.”

“Fear?” Captain Tauriel raised one of her long, elegant eyebrows. “You think my king would fear fourteen unarmed dwarves and four of them only half-grown? His Majesty’s kingdom boasts a great many seasoned warriors all armed with the best possible weaponry and vast years of training. My king does not fear you.”

“Then why keep us locked up?” Dori wasn’t a bit insulted by the slight against his people. They were unarmed and nearly harmless against the might of the Forest Elves and the idea that the king of that mighty force would fear their rag-tag little group was more than a little ridiculous. All that make it all the more puzzling for Dori. He had been trying to understand the reason for their imprisonment since the elves had taken them to stand before King Thranduil. The thin excuse of them being trespassers didn’t hold water.

Captain Tauriel shrugged. “How would I know? My king wanted your people imprisoned, so that is what happened. Who am I to question the king?”

There was a loud slam of a door and both Dori and Captain Tauriel turned to look. Prince Legolas had rushed in, slamming open the door of the wine cellar. “Tauriel! You must come quickly – there are orcs in the forest!”

“What?!”

“Orcs in Mirkwood. Father is furious. He’s taken up his sword and says he’ll fight them! Please, you have to go or I'm sure he'll be hurt!” The worry for his father was genuine, Dori would swear to that. Whatever foul qualities King Thranduil might have, he apparently was a good parent or his child wouldn’t worry for him. Prince Legolas wrung his hands as he spoke. “Please. Surely, orcs are more important than dwarves.”

Captain Tauriel gave Dori a narrow look, then lowered her bow. “Legolas, take some soldiers and lower the far gate in the river. The dwarves will not get far if they are still in the river. Did you tell your father that the rest of them already escaped?”

“I did not.”

“What? Why not?”

“Well, it occurred to me that if I told him everyone escaped, then he’d get angry. You know he has an awful temper. He might kill this one.” He gestured towards Dori. “If he dies, then your little brown-haired one will be upset and he might not talk to you anymore. I don’t your sweetheart to be angry with you.”

Captain Tauriel flushed. She looked, quite horrified, at Dori before she hissed at the prince, “I’ll talk to you about that later. You just get out there and close the river gate. Be quick before they get away. Don’t hurt anyone if you don’t have to, but bring them back. I’ll see to the orcs. Go!” She turned and ran out of the wine cellar.

And Dori, much to his surprise, found Prince Legolas bent over so he could look right into Dori’s eyes. “Tell… tell Gloin I’m sorry I said such things about his wife and son. I didn’t mean it. Not really.”

Then Dori, much to his surprise, was left alone in the wine cellar when Prince Legolas also left. Dori sighed, heavily. “Goodness! Elves!” But even he wasn’t quite sure if he was aggravated with the captain’s behavior or thought the whole situation was too adorable. Regardless, he wasn’t looking forward to the conversation with Thorin about Kili’s love life.

Dori looked down at the river through the open trap-door in the floor. The water was violent and ferociously loud. He grabbed one of the empty barrels without a lid and carried it over to the open hatch in the floor. He made certain he had a good, strong grip on the barrel. Then, he took a deep breath and jumped. He plunged into the raging river, shocked at the biting cold water, and was kept below the surface for a time, but his grip on the barrel never failed and, thankfully, it brought him up to the surface, bobbing like a cork. As swiftly as a racing horse, Dori was carried downriver. He never lost his grip on the barrel. He took a breath when he was able to and attempted to swim, but it was no use; the river was too strong and swept him where it willed. 

Where it willed him to go was almost immediately to the riverbank.

Dori caught himself on the roots of a tree that grew straight into the river and released the wine barrel. For a short moment, he caught his breath before he started to haul himself up onto the banking. He was soaked and his fine hair was in such disarray that he would have been ashamed to show himself in any decent society, but he was alive and free and that meant all was not lost. He was about to get to his feet when a half-dozen elves, with Prince Legolas among them, raced along the side of the river. Not a one of them even noticed Dori.

They were going to recapture Dori’s people. “Not while I’ve still breath in my body!” But, again, before Dori could stand, orcs thundered passed him. And, again, not one noticed him. There were… so many. He couldn’t count them! Dozens of orcs, all huge and armed and all of them pursing… who? Elves or dwarves? Did they even care so long as they could kill someone?

Prince Legolas… Dori didn’t know about any of those other elf soldiers, but Prince Legolas seemed far too young to be involved in a battle with orcs and no matter how strong and fast elves were, their small force, obviously meant only to recapture a few dwarves, would not be up for a battle against so very many orcs. The thought of that young prince slaughtered by orcs was horrifying. What about Captain Tauriel? Was she even alive? Had these orcs killed the soldiers in Mirkwood in order to get to the river or were there even more orcs and Captain Tauriel was off somewhere in that terrible, dark forest fighting for her life? For all that she was an elf and had kept them all imprisoned on orders from her king, she didn’t deserve to be slaughtered by those murders creatures.

But Dori couldn't do anything to help the elves; He had his Prince and his people to worry for – to fight for!

Dori was on his feet and running in the space of a heartbeat.

The orcs were a misery; grayish monsters thundering through the forest, their terrible weapons at the ready for battle. They had no pity or compassion, not even for their own kind. They lived to kill. Orcs came in many shapes and sizes, but all of them were tightly packed bundles of muscle.

‘Sent by Azog,’ Dori thought. ‘That creature is obsessed with Thorin. I don’t like it. That thing’s going to have to die soon.’ He didn’t know how, exactly, but it would have to be done. It would be a challenge. Azog was bigger, nastier, and smarter than most other orcs. It was the ‘smarter’ part that bothered Dori the most. It was always harder fighting a smart opponent than a strong one. Still, he wouldn’t shy away from that duty. No, Azog’s death would be a pleasure or orchestrate.

Dori ran quickly, far more quickly than most dwarves would be able to manage, as he jumped over obstacles in his path. As he ran, Dori’s world seemed to increase. He heard every sound around him from the rush of the water to the birds in the trees. His vision sharpened to the point where he could see individual blades of grass as he ran. He noticed a chipmunk scurry away from the horde of orcs. He saw fish in the river leap into the air from the corner of his eye. It always happened like that. Any truly dangerous situation, anything that caused him to actually exert an effort always caused his senses to sharpen, as if his body was trying to give him the best possible chances for success. He had warned his little brothers that it might happen to them, but, so far, it hadn’t. Then again, it was possible that it was just him who reacted in such a way. After all, his mother had never mentioned such a thing happening to her.

Dori chased after the horde of orcs until he came to the straggler in the group, the last one who was nearly ten feet behind the others. It was simple, in a way. Orcs were tough creatures. They were packed with dense muscle and bore long claws as well as teeth meant for the ripping and tearing of flesh along with swords or clubs or whatever other weapon they carried. They had been known to eat captured enemies alive. But, Dori was no innocent traveler caught unawares. He was no ordinary dwarf. He was a Dark Hands and he wasn’t about to let the orcs get close to his Prince.

Dori made a great leap into the air and grabbed the straggler orc. He quickly and efficiently wrapped both of his powerful arms around the straggler’s neck then gave a savage twist. The neck broke like a twig and the orc fell, face-first, on the ground. Dori landed on his feet and kept running until he caught up with the next orc. He repeated the same move, breaking the neck so quickly, so quietly, that none of the other orcs realized what had happened. When that orc fell, Dori move on to the next. One-by-one, he killed orcs. It wouldn’t last, he knew. They were bound to realize sooner or later than they were being hunted from behind just as surely as they were hunting Dori’s people. When they did realize what was happening to them, they would stop and face him and that would make Dori’s job much more difficult. Facing a group of armed orcs head-on was quite a bit more challenging than assassinating them while their backs were turned.

That moment came sooner than Dori would have liked. His next target turned his head and caught sight of Dori. At once, he spun around and brought two short, broad swords, both with jagged, saw-like edges, up in front of him. His face twisted with a snarled and he let out a noise that made Dori think of some rabid beast. 

Dori was forced to stop his pursuit and watched in dismay as the rest of the orcs ran onward. 

The orc swung it’s swords in great archs and Dori almost didn’t make it out of the way before the swords hit the ground in front of him, digging into the earth a good five inches. The orc recovered at once, pulling back his swords and moving closer to Dori. The orc was fast, unfortunately. He started swinging his swords at Dori faster and faster, like a windmill, effectively pushing him backwards.

Dori saw his opening and in a flash he took it. The orc, apparently confidant in his victory, raised both swords above his head at once and aimed to strike Dori a killing blow. But Dori saw the unprotected chest and surged forward fast enough that the orc couldn’t react . He made a fist with one hand and drove that fist into and through the orc’s chest.

He felt hot blood and soft innards.

The orc stared down at Dori, a look on his face of utter bewilderment at the sight of Dori’s hand inside the orc’s chest. Dori turned his hand and felt the creature’s beating heart. A single squeeze was all it took. There was a flood of blood running down Dori’s arm. The orc dropped his swords. He fell to his knees then tipped over to the side, dead. Dori released his grip and let his hand slide out of the dead orc.

He looked up. The elves and orcs were all long gone. The forest was quiet.

Steeling his resolve, Dori started running, again. He ran and ran until he found the elves walking back to their home. They were wounded and filthy, fresh from a fight. The elves saw Dori and looked at each other questioningly, but none seemed in any great hurry to recapture him.

“Your people have gone.” Prince Legolas, who looked a bit worse for wear, came to the front of the group to speak for Dori. “The river will lead them to Lake-Town. Follow it and you’ll find them.”

“And that’s it?” Dori asked, suspiciously. He had no desire for Thranduil’s hospitality.

Prince Legolas shrugged, tiredly. “My people are tired from the battle. We have wounded to tend and dead to honor.” He said nothing more and led his people home.

Dori continued on. He came to where there had clearly been a battle, were the dead of the orcs had been left by their fellows and blood was thick on the ground and Captain Tauriel stood on a high branch of a tree and stared morosely downriver. Dori didn’t intrude and kept moving. He kept running until, at last, he found his people washed up on a rocky beach.

“Dori!” Thorin’s face lit up like a bon fire. He raced across the rocky shore as quickly as he could and seized hold of Dori as if he would never let him go. They stayed like that for a long time and Dori was perfectly content, though he looked over Thorin’s shoulder to look at the others who gave them a polite distance for their reunion. He counted them all carefully. All of them were as wet and bedraggled as Dori felt, but they were alive. Each and every one of them was alive. Then his eyes fell on Kili, sitting on a large rock with Fili. Kili’s leg was stretched out in front of him and there was blood soaked through his trousers.

“Kili! His leg!” Dori broke away from Thorin and started to walk towards Kili. He was a sad sight, though he furiously worked to keep up appearances. Kili straightened his back and managed a smile that wasn’t entirely genuine. As he walked, Thorin explained to Dori how Kili had managed to get shot in the leg.

“I’m alright,” Kili insisted. “Really. I’ll be fine. Don’t worry, Dori.”

The reassurances didn’t help Dori’s state of mind when he knelt next to Kili and examined the bandaged wound. There was nothing Dori could do to help Kili. 

“We haven’t any supplies,” Oin groused from where he stood next to Kili. “I’ve washed it with river water and used some of Bombur’s cloak to bandage it, but I need to clean it better. I need soap.” He said it so urgently that Dori looked at him sharply. Oin sighed. “You know what could go wrong. Orc weapons are nothing to take lightly. Who knows what was on that blade? Have you any supplies left? Any herbs at all?” His eyes, normally stern and hard, softened. “Even something to lessen the pain?”

But Dori had nothing left. Not a thing. He couldn’t lessen any pain or give Oin the medicine he made so Oin could stop any infection that might threaten Kili. “The arrowhead might have been clean. They aren’t always poisoned.” Even to his own ears, it sounded desperate. Dori watched as Thorin moved to squat in front of Kili, resting his weight on his heels. They spoke quietly and, in that moment, Dori saw the Thorin that people outside their family never saw. He saw Thorin not as a prince or embittered survivor, but as the devoted uncle who wished for nothing but the happiness and well-being of his beloved nephews. Thorin smiled at Kili and patted his arm gently.

“I’m so proud of you,” Thorin told Kili. The praise was enough to make Kili blush even as Fili gave him a fond pat on the shoulder. “It was a very brave thing you did. To run out into that swarm of orcs so you could free the rest of us was very brave, indeed.” He raised up a hand and cupped the side of Kili’s face. “Don’t do it, again. This old dwarf’s heart can’t take the strain.”

“I’ll try not to catch any more arrows with my leg,” Kili laughed weakly.

Oin, of course, took charge. “Enough of this sentiment!” Oin snapped the last word as if it was vile curse and his attitude surprised no one. He was a practical old codger and would suffer no foolishness when it came to the well-being of his patients. Oin gave Thorin’s shoulder a rough slap. “Get on your feet and get us somewhere safe. Get us somewhere with clean water and soap and bandages.” He paused. “And a couple of beds. I don’t care a wit about the rest of you, but the lad needs a warm place to sleep and so does our Bilbo.”

That last made Dori look, again, at Bilbo. He didn’t look well. He sat on the ground, cross-legged, next to Nori. He was nearly as pale as Kili and soaked to the bone. Bilbo sniffled and pulled out the awful handkerchief Bofur had given him so long ago and used it to wipe his nose. Then he sneezed and leaned against Nori. “I’m fine,” Bilbo muttered. “I’m just fine. It’s hay fever, I suppose.” He sneezed, again, and Nori gave him a one-armed hug.

Oin gave Thorin a flat look. “Well? Get on with it. Get us out of here.” 

Thorin gave Kili one last pat on his uninjured leg, then jumped to his feet to consult with Balin about their best course of action.

And then, from the river, they heard a call. A human, standing on a barge with several of the wine barrels neatly lined up on the deck, had shouted out to them. Thorin and the man spoke for a moment.

While those two spoke, Dori wrapped his arms around Kili as he used to do when Kili had been just a tiny child begging anyone who would listen for a hug.

“Aww… Dori. You worry too much.” Kili returned the hug. “Really, I’m fine. Nothing's going to happen to me.”

Fili added in, “Never mind him, Dori. He loves getting hugs. He’s just afraid that elf captain will show up while he’s getting cuddled.”

“Shut up, Fili!” Kili snapped, turning very red.

To be continued…


	18. Misunderstanding

Chapter 18: Misunderstanding

Thorin-

 

Normally, Thorin had no use at all for humans, but Bard was different. He was eminently sensible and still managed to hold onto his honor. True that he had asked payment for smuggling Thorin’s people into Lake-Town, but that was simple business and Thorin didn’t begrudge him trying to earn a little extra to support his struggling family. After all, Thorin would have done the same in his place.

Once they were smuggled into Lake-Town and took a decidedly undignified path into Bard’s home, Thorin took a moment to collect himself.

“You’re welcome to stay the night,” Bard spoke hesitantly, awkwardly. He clearly had little experience with guests and that made Thorin look at Bilbo, remembering the same awkward nervousness he’d seen in Bilbo on the night of their stay in his home. Bard rubbed the back of his neck and looked around at the assembled, rather damp, dwarves. “I suppose you planned on better accommodations, but the Master of the Town isn’t known for hospitality and it won’t help your cause to wake him so late at night. Take my word – better to accept my poor welcome for one night and find him in a better mood tomorrow.”

Bard’s ‘poor welcome’ was appreciated. That Bard would be so kind as to not only give them a place to sleep, but also allow them to stay in the same house as his children was amazing.

Thorin took a moment to be sure all his people were gathered and saw Bilbo lurking near Dori and Fili helping Kili to stand. Bofur and Bifur and Oin… one-by-one Thorin counted off his people until he was reassured that everyone had made it. Of course he knew they had – he’d already counted them all when they’d made it out of the river – but it always made him feel better just to be sure. It was a well-developed habit and had been started long before the quest had begun. He counted his people over and over to be sure no one had suddenly gone missing. He had been mocked for his habit before, but it didn’t stop him from counting. The nightmare he’d suffered when he’d found his father had gone missing still haunted him. He hadn’t even realized his father was missing until two hours after he’d woken up. Perhaps if he’d had the habit of counting his people back then he would have realized his father was missing sooner and would have been able to find him. Well, it was a lesson well-learned. He started counting people that day – every couple of hours, he counted – and he would never lose one of his people, again. 

Once all the dwarves and Bard’s family stood in the central living area of the home that appeared to serve as a kitchen and dining room and living area all together, Bard cleared his throat. “Well, now that you’re all here, these are my children.”

Even as Bard spoke, a boy - far too young to be considered even a young man – hurried to bring a chair for Kili and urged him to sit and rest his leg. Kili and Fili each thanked the boy with a sincere smile.

The home of Bard the bargeman was plain, but sturdy and clean. There wasn’t a bit of dust to be found in any corner or any sign that mice might have invaded the home. For all that it was clean and well-maintained, the house showed not a single sign of gratuitous spending. There was no luxury; no decorations, not paint on the walls, no flowers on the table – nothing. The floors were bare and there was no glass in the windows, simply open squares in the walls that were covered with shutters.

“Father?” Bard’s oldest child, a girl not quite full-grown, looked at the dwarves and then her father with worry, her eyebrows drawn together. “What’s going on?”

“We have some guests. Keep the shutters barred and there is to be no word of their presence here. Everyone understand?” When the children all nodded - the oldest still worried, the boy curious, and the youngest eagerly bouncing on her toes – Bard introduced them and when he did, he beamed. “My eldest, Sigrid,” Bard proudly put a hand on his daughter’s shoulder and the girl gave a hurried bob that clearly was meant to be a curtsy. “She’s the lady of the house since her mother left us. Keeps us all warm and fed and clean.” He ruffled her hair with a father’s clear love.” We’d be quite lost without her.”

Sigrid seemed too skinny to be properly healthy, but humans always looked a bit odd to Thorin so he really wasn’t one to judge. She clearly wasn’t fully grown, but had the serious look of a child who’d grown up too quickly.

Bard moved to stand next to the boy who’d given Kili the chair. “And this is Bane, my only son who is too like his father for his own good.” Bard smiled at his son’s cheeky grin.

Bane was a lanky lad, all elbows and knees and an eager smile as young boys were wont to be. He, like his elder sister, was rather thin. Bard certainly had no extra weight on him, so it was possible that it was hereditary.

“And my youngest,” Bard stepped behind the youngest child and set his hand on the top of her head. “This is my Tilda. If she bothers you too much…”

The girl pouted up at her father at the suggestion. “I will not bother anyone, father!” She, too, was too thin, but her eyes were bright as stars. She looked at Thorin with a wide smile that showed off where she was missing a front tooth. “I’m very friendly and I know EVERYTHING about Lake-Town. And I can help you, I’m sure.”

All three children were dressed in drab, well-worn clothes. There were many patches and obvious repairs. Bane’s shirt was far too big – clearly, it was a hand-me-down from his father. Tilda’s dress was also too big and was likely a hand-me-down from her sister. And even Sigrid, the eldest and female who obviously couldn’t inherit clothes from her father, wore clothes far too big for her. Thorin wondered if her clothes were from a kindly neighbor woman or if the girl’s mother had left clothes behind and Sigrid had, out of necessity, put aside sentimentality and taken the clothes as her own.

Sigrid frowned at her sister. “Oh, don’t be silly, Tilda. They need rest and food, they’re not going to be taking a tour of the town.”

Thorin was about to say how he wished to speak with whomever was in charge of the town, but Bilbo spoke up. “Food?”

And Thorin felt something rise up in him. He’d always hated being unable to provide food, but Bard’s family looked as if they were hardly able to feed themselves. It wouldn’t be right to take anything from them. He said to Bard, “We wouldn’t inconvenience you…”

“Would you refuse my hospitality?” Bard asked, his voice soft, but his eyes narrowed. “My daughter has offered and I may not be a prince, but I can feed my guests.”

Faced with Bard’s pride, Thorin didn’t see how he could refuse and risk insulting their host. Bard had helped them and given them shelter, putting himself and his family at risk when he didn’t need to. To insult him by refusing a kindly offered meal was unthinkable. Thorin would be sure to repay Bard’s kindness, somehow. If he could retake Erebor, he would do much for the little family.

Thorin ignored everyone watching him, waiting for a decision. He hated making decisions. He knew very well that if he ordered it, none of his people would eat and not one of them would complain as they were loyal enough not to question him, especially not in front of outsiders. But Kili was injured and would need whatever strength food would give him. Bilbo looked dreadful. He was pale and breathing hard. His voice was raw and he spoke as if he were congested. He leaned heavily against Bofur and Thorin wasn’t altogether sure Bilbo knew he was even doing it.

Thorin felt a stab of guilt for even thinking of refusing the food when his people were so desperate for it. It wasn’t as if the elves had starved them, but they certainly hadn’t eaten well for many days.

Sigrid told them, “I have some fish soup, if you’re not too particular. It’s… ah… it’s all we have today.”

Bilbo made a happy little noise and closed his eyes, as if he would fall asleep right there. “Soup… lovely.”

Bofur put an arm around Bilbo. “Maybe a rest first?” 

Oin shook his head. “No. Food first, if he can eat. Then, he can rest and,” Oin narrowed his eyes at Thorin. “No matter how much of a hurry we’re in, the lad needs to rest. He stays in bed until I say otherwise. Kili, too.” He shook a finger at Kili, who still sat in the chair Bane had given him. “You don’t get up until I say you can! The pair of you need rest more than anything.”

“Whatever you say.” Thorin had no intention of facing the dragon unarmed, anyhow, and getting weapons would take time to arrange. Besides, he had absolutely no intention of taking little Bilbo any further than Lake-Town, even if Bilbo were feeling perfectly healthy.

“I want soup,” Bilbo muttered. He hadn’t opened his eyes. “I don’t need a nap.” That was punctuated with a yawn and then a hacking cough. It sounded dreadful. The cough was bad enough to deepen Oin’s frown and he gave Bilbo a few gentle pats on the back to help him out. When he stopped, Bilbo looked at Oin with pleading eyes. “Soup?”

“Soup.” Oin clapped his hands. “And after we eat, these two youngins can get some sleep.”

Kili bristled at being included with little Bilbo in needing to be put to bed, but Bilbo apparently either didn’t notice or didn’t care about being put to bed and let Bofur lead him to where the two of them could sit on the floor with Dori. Bard’s table was clearly not big enough for everyone and no one had any objections to sitting on the floor after so many long, long weeks of travel and the years of living rough on the road. The only exception was that Bard insisted the eldest of the group – Balin and Oin – sit in chairs at the table to make themselves comfortable.

“We don’t have guests often,” Bard said, his face a little red at having all his guests scattered about on the floor. “I’m afraid we’re underprepared.” 

“No matter at all,” Balin said, smoothly. “We are indebted to you, sir. Your hospitality is very fine.”

With a nervous laugh, Bard rubbed the back of his neck. “Hospitality… all I can offer is water to drink, fish soup, and a roof over your head. It’s not much.”

“It is more than most would offer.”

Bilbo snuggled against Dori’s side. “They ate all my food.” He sniffed, loudly, and looked at Bard with eyes that were only half-open. “They’ll eat your whole pantry.” He let out a long yawn. “They’ll eat anything.”

Bane stood near his father with his arms crossed, mimicking his father’s stance in the way many young boys try to imitate their fathers. “Old Dasser said he’d give me a sack of potatoes for helping with chopping his firewood last week. That will thicken the soup. I’ll go collect it, now.” He did as promised and returned a few moments later with a large sack of potatoes which Sigrid immediately chopped up and added to the kettle of soup on the fire.

Sigrid, serving as the mistress of her father’s house, organized the large meal. She handed them all bowls of soup. It was watery and made with fish and potatoes. Tilda had needed to run to a neighbor to borrow bowls and spoons so everyone might have one.

Thorin, sitting next to Dwalin on the floor, was stunned when little Tilda, her own bowl of soup in hand, sat down next to him without a hint of hesitation. “Hi! I’m Tilda and I’m eight-years-old. Have you traveled a long way? Da told me stories about dwarves living in the big mountain but that was about forever ago so I thought it was all fairy tales. You’re the first dwarves I ever met and I really like your big boots; those must be great for stomping bugs!” 

Thorin glanced at Bard to see his reaction, he found Bard watching the scene with an amused expression. Obviously, this talkative nature in his youngest was very normal.

“My boots,” Thorin said, softly. “Are excellent for stomping bugs.”

“I knew they would be.” She gave a self-assured nod of her head before she began to eat. “You should eat, too,” Tilda whispered. “It’s filling and Sigrid worked hard to stretch it so everyone could eat. She’s worried you won’t eat it because it’s only fish soup.”

Abruptly, Bard broke the silence of the room by saying, “Forgive me, but I need to check that I tied up the barge. Everyone, please eat.” He poured a bit of his soup into Sigrid’s bowl and some into Bane’s, before he gave the last to Tilda.

Bane stood up. “I can come with you, father. I’m not a bit hungry.” He made to hand his bowl of soup to Tilda, but Bard shook his head.

“No, son. You eat your share. I mean it. That bowl had best be empty when I return.” Then he left.

Bane and Sigrid shared a look and the two of them, with their bowls in hand, went to speak quietly near the stove where Sigrid had cooked the meal.

Tilda confided quietly in Thorin, “Sigrid and Bane will put part of their share aside for him to eat when he finally comes back. I hope he eats tonight.” Tilda bit her lip and looked at her bowl while at the stove, as she’d predicted, Sigrid and Bane poured part of their soup back into the bowl their father had left behind and set it aside for him.

“I regret bringing more stress to your family,” Thorin said, sadly. The soup didn’t look as appetizing with the knowledge that he was taking food from children and their host. He wondered how many meals Bard missed to see that his children ate. He wondered if this would have been Bard’s only meal all day. Thorin had skipped more than one meal to ensure others could eat. He started to put his bowl aside, but stopped when Tilda’s little hand grabbed his wrist.

“Please, sir. You must eat. Sigrid worked really hard and she’s so proud to feed a whole house full of people. If you don’t eat, father will be insulted. After all, father says a guest must always be polite and eat what their hosts provide.” She said it as if she’d heard it a dozen times before and was parroting it. “Even if they provide broccoli.”

So Thorin ate and he quietly made sure that the rest of his company ate their share as well. As expected, Sigrid beamed happily when she saw all the empty bowls.

The family dynamic was interesting. Sigrid was in command, as it were, and she ran a tight ship. Her younger brother and sister were ordered to wash and go to bed, which they did without question, and then Sigrid provided a couple of buckets and two basins filled with water for the dwarves.

“You can wash up in here. I’ll empty the dirty water out later.” Sigrid awkwardly rubbed one arm. “I’m sorry we haven’t got beds for everyone, but… well…”

Bombur laughed pleasantly. “Now, don’t you worry. We’re just fine bedding down on the floor. Isn’t that right, lads?” It was more than Bombur would normally say, but as a father with daughters, he wouldn’t stand to let the girl be upset by something she couldn’t control. The little family was doing its best to be good to them, after all. 

Everyone loudly agreed with Bombur until Balin harshly hushed them. “We are meant to be in hiding, remember? We don’t want to cause trouble for this family.” When everyone went quiet, Balin gave that gentle smile to the girl. “We are all very thankful. Please, don’t worry about anything. You go and get some rest. It looks like you work hard to take care of your family.”

The human family went to their beds and, when the dwarves and Bilbo were alone, Oin made sure Bilbo was put to bed. Bilbo was half-asleep and didn’t protest. He did protest having to move away from Bifur.

“He’s comfy,” Bilbo whined. “He warm and soft. I don’t wanna move.” He wiped his drippy nose with the handkerchief Bofur had given him so long ago before they’d left the Shire. Bilbo had, as the evening had progressed, drifted from dwarf to dwarf. He would lean against them for a minute or two, and then move on. Sometimes, he would doze and sometimes he would just listen to the conversation around him with a little smile. Bilbo had finally settled against Bifur. While they couldn’t understand each other, that didn’t stop them from trying. It was an odd sort of conversation to listen to, but neither seemed unhappy with it. Bilbo leaned against Bifur seemed content to stay there, but Oin got him away and got him settled on one of the bed rolls. Bilbo was sound asleep the moment he lay down.

Thorin took first watch.

Just as he’d set up watch when they’d stayed in Bilbo’s house back in the Shire, Thorin set a watch in Bard’s home. At night, when all was dark and quiet, Thorin’s thoughts often settled and his worries slipped away. That night, however, his mind was firmly on the dragon and he kept envisioning what might happen when they finally went into Erebor. Bard finally returned and Thorin watched him sadly eat the cold soup his children had left for him. Thorin was well-aware of the pain a person felt when they couldn’t provide well for the people in their care, but he really didn’t think Bard was doing all that poorly – he had a roof over his head and food on the table. The food might not be the richest, but it was filling and healthy. Their family could be doing worse.

When Bard left the room, Thorin believe the rest of the night would be quiet, but then Bilbo made a noise and Thorin walked over to see that Bilbo was awake. His face was red and his breathing was a big harsh, but he was awake Bilbo blinked up at Thorin. 

“Mom?”

Well… no one had ever made THAT mistake before. 

Bilbo reached out and put his hand on Thorin’s arm. “Mom? What…? Oh. Thorin. Sorry. I mean… just… sorry.” Bilbo coughed roughly. The cold was getting worse. His voice sounded scratchy and painful. “Sorry. So sorry. I thought… never mind. It was just a dream. I dreamed she was here with me. She used to travel all the time. It sounds awful – but I only met my mother a handful of times in my life. Is that weird? She would come home to visit at least once a year. People in Hobbiton would whisper and mutter that she was an awful mother, but she loved me. I saw it in her eyes when she came home. She DID love me. You believe me, don’t you?”

“Of course I do.” What else could he say? “You should rest, now. You’re sick.”

“I’m not THAT sick,” Bilbo protested. “It’s just a bad cold.” He gave a heavy sigh. “I hate all this business with my home. Have I told you that? That’s what they’re saying when they say they want to search my home – they’re saying she didn’t love me. Terrible thing to say about someone’s mother. But I have to go back. I have to let it be done or the question will forever linger over my head. Besides, I know I’m right. They won’t find any will. I’m sure of it. Really.” He sounded as if he were desperately trying to convince himself. “Say, do you want to know a secret?”

“I want you to get some sleep.”

“But I’ve been trying to tell you for ages. I tried to tell Dori and Nori and Bofur and all the others, but something always happens to stop me.” Bilbo hesitated. “Maybe I shouldn’t tell. I’m not really sure. I get so confused when I think about it for too long.” But Bilbo shook his head and told Thorin, “I have a magic ring.”

“Really?” Thorin casually put a hand on Bilbo’s hand. It felt warm, but he wouldn’t have thought it was high enough to cause delusions. He decided that Bilbo was half-asleep and simply telling stories. “A magic ring?”

Bilbo nodded, earnestly. “Yes. It makes me invisible and it’s very powerful, but… but I’m… I think I’m scared of it. Sometimes, I think it’s watching me.” Bilbo went on to tell Thorin all about his magic ring and how he’d found it far below the goblin caves and used it to hide from the spiders in Mirkwood as well as the elves, but he didn’t really like using it because he always felt so dreadfully cold when he wore it. 

“Do you want me to hold onto it for you?” Thorin asked.

Bilbo frowned. “You can’t! It’s mine. It’s my precious.”

It was almost enough to make Thorin laugh. “Of course. You hold onto it, then.” He had no doubt that Bilbo merely imagined the magic ring. 

Bilbo pulled the blanket up close to his chin. “I’ll try to hold onto it, but I’ve lost about everything else. I lost my buttons. I lost my quilting.” He sniffled, miserably. “How will I ever finish? It’s very important.”

“Why?”

“I want to make a quilt for all of you.” Bilbo gave Thorin a sleepy smile. “It’s tradition to make a family quilt and I need to have a scrap of fabric from everyone before I go back. If there’s a dragon and fire and… I lost my needle and thread. My lovely blue thread.” Bilbo coughed, again, and when he finished, he didn’t open his eyes. “I’m rambling. Sorry. So sorry. So tired.”

“Goodnight, Bilbo.”

“Goodnight.”

Thorin waited until Bilbo drifted to sleep, then tucked the blanket around him more securely.

From where he sat at the table, Dori chuckled. “Magic ring? Where did he come up with that idea, I wonder?” He was busy mixing some medicine for Kili’s leg at the kitchen table. 

Thorin went to sit at the table with Dori. He looked over his shoulder and saw that Nori was sound asleep. He turned back to Dori. “Dori?”

“Yes?”

“I love you.”

Dori looked up, startled to hear it. Then he grinned and sniffed. “Oh, get away, you old softie! I’ve got work to do and I don’t need any distracting.” He went back to mixing the various herbs he’d been lucky enough to find in Sigrid’s kitchen garden into a paste. It would be a poultice for Kili’s leg. “Now that everyone’s asleep, I think I ought to mention that your Kili has an admirer.”

It caught Thorin completely off guard. “What? Who? When did this happen?” He looked around at the sleeping companions. Not one of his people, surely. They would have had the respect to speak with him about the matter, not let Dori overhear or oversee something and mention it second-hand to Thorin.

Dori seemed to guess his thoughts and chuckled. “Not one of them. Of course not. There was an elf-girl in Mirkwood. She asked questions about Erebor and Kili came up in conversation.”

Thorin rolled his eyes. “An elf.”

“She seems to be a very nice girl.”

“Which one?”

“The head of their guard, Captain Tauriel.”

Thorin sighed. Life never could be easy, could it? The idea of welcoming an elf into his family… ugg.

“Don’t be like that,” Dori said, without looking up from his work. “She saved his life at the river, you know. She probably saved all of us. A very accomplished warrior, from what I saw, and she was a sensible, well-spoken girl. Kili could do worse. And I would not be entirely shocked to find that Kili might be sweet on her, too.”

“Really?”

“Stranger things have happened.”

Thorin said nothing. He would need to have a long talk with Kili about Captain Tauriel and find out exactly what, if anything, was going on. One more worry on top of everything else.

After a short time, Dori, like everyone else in the house went to sleep. The house went entirely silent but for snoring. Thorin walked around the house as quietly as he could so as to not disturb his hosts. He peered out the windows through the slasts in the shutters when he checked to see that they’d all been properly latched and then ensured that both the front and back door were locked. Now and then he heard voices outside the house, people returning home from a late night of work or people going to start a very early day, but, for the most part, the night was silent.

A creek on the stairs caught his attention.

Thorin turned at the sound and saw Sigrid, fully dressed, coming down the stairs. She noticed him at once. “Can’t sleep?”

“I keep watch. It helps my people stay safe.”

Rather than questioning it, as Bilbo had back in Bag End, Sigrid nodded with understanding. She didn’t say a word as she went to one of the windows to check that it was securely latched.

“They are all secured. I checked them only a moment ago.”

Sigrid hesitated and gave him a worried look. “Oh… that’s good. But… I just…” She stopped and took a deep breath. “I have to check them for myself. I’m sorry.” She didn’t wait for his reply before she went around checked all the windows.

Thorin watched Sigrid and didn’t say a word. He completely understood. She was merely doing the same as he did – keeping watch over family. He wondered at life in Lake-Town if such a young girl felt the need to be fearful in her own home, though. His life on road after Smaug had caused his watchfulness, but Sigrid should have felt safe in her home with the strong walls and a roof over her head.

“What are you guarding against?” Thorin asked. He kept his voice low so as to not wake anyone. They all needed rest.

Sigrid didn’t answer for a moment. She tugged on the door handle to make sure it, too, was locked. She managed a brave smile. “It’s nothing. I worry too much, I suppose.” But her hands clenched at her sides in a convulsive movement and she kept glancing at the door.

“Perhaps you worry about something in particular tonight.” Thorin, too, looked at the door. While Sigrid was well more than a foot taller than him, she still seemed painfully young -too young for the worry lines around her eyes. Thorin looked over to where his people were sleeping. He didn’t want to wake Balin or Dori though they would undoubtedly be able to comfort the girl more easily than Thorin would. “You should speak to your father about whatever worries you.”

She shook her head. “Oh, I don’t think so. He has too many worries already. I can handle it.” Her nervous start at a noise outside the house was telling. 

“Young lady,” Thorin said in his very best ‘stern uncle’ voice. “I have raised a very stubborn little sister, two trouble-making nephews, and now a young hobbit, along with several other youngsters I have helped raise. I know ALL about young people trying to keep secrets and I can tell you that it’s a very bad idea. No matter what the trouble is – you must tell your father. He will worry whether you tell him or not, so it is best to tell him and let him help you.”

Sigrid blushed at the reprimand, though Thorin hadn’t meant it in such a way. He’d only wanted to give her some advice, not make her feel badly. Maybe he should have troubled Balin to talk to her. He sighed and ran a hand over his head. He tried, again, “If you are so upset that you must patrol your own home at night to keep monsters out, warning your father will only help.”

Sigrid swallowed, hard. She’d gone very pale. She chewed on her bottom lip for a moment before she quietly whispered, “It’s not really monsters. It’s… a person.” She hesitated, again, before she sat on one of the chairs at the table and was able to look Thorin in the eye. “A few nights ago, father was out very late. He works so much just to keep us fed and sometimes it keeps him out all night. That night, a man came to the house.” She hesitated, again, and looked fearfully at the locked door. For a long, drawn-out moment, she said nothing. It was as if the mere memory of the man at the door was enough to send her into a shock. Then she gave her head a little shake and looked back at Thorin. “I came downstairs because I heard a noise and he was in here, standing at the table. I was sure I locked the door before I went to bed. He’s the Master of the Town’s man, Alfrid. I told him father wasn’t in and to come back later, but he said he knew father wasn’t home and it was me he wanted to see.”

‘A man?’ Thorin thought with disapproval. ‘A grown man coming around at night to visit a young girl when he knew the girl’s father wasn’t at home? Dishonorable!’ Rather than speaking his mind, which he guessed might upset her, Thorin simply said, “Go on. I’m listening.” 

“Alfrid said he could make things easier for my family. He said he’d make it so we got as much food as we wanted and new clothes.”

Thorin’s stomach dropped and he had a sudden flash of a memory. His little Dis, only forty-years-old, had come to Thorin crying because someone had promised something very similar. 

Thorin pulled himself away from that awful memory. He’d dealt with that cretin and there was no need to dwell on it. He didn’t look away from Sigrid. “What would the price be for this food and clothes?”

Sigrid looked ill. “He said the Master of the Town wanted me to go work in his house.”

“And that’s bad?”

“The last girl who worked there got pregnant and was sent away in disgrace. She was a year younger than me. I told Alfrid my father wouldn’t like it and I couldn’t do anything father wouldn’t like.” Her eyes filled with tears. “I don’t want to go work there. I don’t. But… we need the food and it would make father’s life easier…” She blinked and stiffened her back. She sucked in a deep breath and calmed herself. “I’m sure father wouldn’t like me to do something I don’t want to do, but Alfrid will come back and I’m sure he’ll do something horrible if I don’t agree and I don’t want him around. He’s slimy and awful and I’m so afraid I’ll come down here, again, and he’ll be standing in the house.”

Thorin’s hand tightened on Sigrid’s arm. “Go back to bed, child. I will keep your home safe.” It was a promise he could easily make. He didn’t need to be intelligent for such a job, just strong.

“I don’t want to ask you to do that. You should sleep. You’re a guest, after all.”

“I will be awake, regardless. I stand guard for my people. I will stand guard for your family, too. Go to sleep, child.”

Sigrid took one last unhappy look at the door before she did as Thorin said with a whispered, “Thank you, sir.” Then she went back upstairs and it was the last Thorin saw of her for the night. He made a note to explain to Balin what had happened and ask him to talk to Bard. Clearly, something needed to be done to keep the girl safe. Maybe Dori would take care of the problem so no other young girls found themselves in such a distressing situation.

The night passed quietly after that. The fearsome man Sigrid had been frightened of never appeared, which was good as Thorin had extremely little regard for such a person. The quiet night gave Thorin a good deal of time to think. Oin was optimistic that Kili’s leg would heal, though he still warned of the danger of infection. Thorin had never wanted his dear nephews to get hurt and felt a stab of guilt that it had happened, but there was nothing to be done of it but give Kili time to heal. He took a moment in his patrol of the house to pat Kili on the head. He would have to tell Kili that he couldn’t come up to the mountain and knew that would go over as well as a songbird trying to charm a cat. But Kili could hardly walk; he certainly couldn’t hike up a mountain as steep as Erebor. Making the attempt might ruin his leg permanently and there was no possibility of Thorin allowing that to happen. So Thorin spent a good part of the night trying to think of a sensible, reasonable way to explain it all to Kili in such a way that would avoid a temper tantrum.

His thoughts wandered. 

In the quiet and darkness, his mind flew to the mountain and he began to remember what life had been like before the dragon. The dragon had been a nightmare come to life. Smoke and fire and screams…

It would come to Lake-Town.

Thorin felt sick and cold. If Smaug was still alive and Thorin woke the dragon, Lake-Town would burn just as Dale had. Bard’s family would lose what little they had. They would likely all die. 

He couldn’t give up the quest. He couldn’t stop when the chance for a home was so close, he just couldn’t deny his people the chance of having a safe home. But the idea that his people’s safety and happiness might come at the cost of innocent people like Bard’s family… it made his stomach turn.

Bilbo made an unhappy little noise and Thorin was grateful for the distraction. When Bilbo started to cough, Thorin made his way over. Bilbo was awake and sitting up, blinking blearily around him, just as Thorin reached him. In the most adorable way, Bilbo looked around, yawned, then looked up at Thorin. He smiled. “Hi.”

“Hello. Go back to sleep or your cold won’t get better.”

“Can’t sleep. I’ve got a headache.” Bilbo rubbed a hand across his forehead. He looked down at Nori, sleeping next to him, then over to Bofur, who slept on the other side of Nori. “Bofur is going to let me be his apprentice. He said so.”

Thorin hadn’t been expecting anything different and knew that as soon as the mountain was reclaimed, he could expect a formal request from Bofur for the permission to take Bilbo as his apprentice. Although they were all family to Bilbo, it was well-understood that Thorin and Dori were to be Bilbo’s chief guardians.

“Did you drink all the tea Oin gave you?”

Bilbo nodded. “Every drop.” He turned his head a little to look over at Oin, who’d fallen asleep near Kili. “He’s really wonderful, isn’t he? You’re all so wonderful. You all mean so much to me. I can’t tell you how much.” Bilbo sniffled and looked worryingly grim. “You’d never hate me, would you, Thorin? Even if there had been a rather huge misunderstanding?” He sat up and folded his hands on his lap. His fingers twitched until he took hold of the hem of his blanket and squeezed the fabric tightly. Nori had taken his boots off before he’d fallen asleep next to Bilbo and Bilbo picked up one of those boots. Absently, he began rubbing the toe of Nori’s boot with his blanket, polishing it. “It’s really a perfectly innocent misunderstanding and it’s nothing at all to get angry about. I think you may even laugh.” But Bilbo’s expression wasn’t amused. He looked like he was going to be sick. He licked his lips, nervously. “I didn’t even know we had a misunderstanding until you were shouting with the elf king. I know I should have told you right away, but so much was going on and I really didn’t want to make you mad. I didn’t want everyone to be angry with me and send me away.”

Thorin was getting more confused by the minute as Bilbo babbled. What did Thranduil have to do with anything? A misunderstanding that made Bilbo so nervous couldn’t be a good thing. What had Thranduil done? Thorin felt completely out of his depth. “I would never hate you, nor would anyone of our company. Didn’t Bofur offer to take you as his apprentice? That isn’t something done lightly. Didn’t Ori promise to teach you to read our language? Didn’t Gloin say he wanted to properly introduce you to his wife and son? No misunderstanding could ever make us send you away.”

Bilbo turned red. “You’re so nice. Always so nice. But I don’t think you’ll… it’s… I know this will sound strange when I tell you because it’s funny to think I never noticed how everyone treated me, but it was nice and everyone was so kind. I honestly didn’t realize the misunderstanding.” He spoke faster and faster, as if he were afraid he wouldn’t be able to finish speaking if he paused. “You called me a child when you were talking to the elf king, but I’m not. I’m really and honestly not a child.”

Thorin almost laughed. Still, he kept a straight face for the sake of little Bilbo’s dignity. “Is that so?”

“Yes.” Bilbo nodded his head so fast that his curls bounced all around and Thorin knew he’d have to teach Bilbo to braid his hair, soon. “I’m an adult.”

Thorin smiled. “Well, that makes things easier.”

“It does? You believe me?”

“Of course I believe you. I know my hobbit would never tell a fib. So, considering that you’re so grown-up, you won’t throw a tantrum when I tell you that you’ll be staying here in Lake-Town when the others and I go up to Erebor.”

“What?!”

Thorin hushed Bilbo and realized, in hindsight, that he shouldn’t have told Bilbo while everyone else was sleeping. Still, it was too late to change his mind. “If you are a child, you cannot go to face a dragon. If you are an adult, you are mature enough to understand that I need people to stay behind and keep Kili and Bard’s family safe and I have chosen you and Nori for that job.” Anything to keep Bilbo away from the dragon. 

Bilbo gaped at Thorin, angry and distressed and embarrassed all at once. “But… that’s not fair.” Bilbo, obviously exhausted, lay back down. “I signed the contract. I HAVE to face the dragon. I said I would and I never break my word.” He paused, then groaned and closed his eyes. “You don’t believe me, do you? Thorin, I’m not joking – I am an adult!”

“Go to sleep. We’ll talk about it later.”

Bilbo did fall asleep - his cold really was quite bad - and Thorin went back to patrolling the house. He hadn’t gone more than ten feet away from Bilbo before he suddenly froze in place. A nagging little thought at the back of his mind made him turn around and look back at Bilbo. 

‘An adult?’ Thorin tried to push the absurd thought away, but it was true that he’d never seen any other hobbits to compare Bilbo to. ‘If Gandalf had been telling the truth when he said Bilbo was a full-grown hobbit… what if Bilbo was an adult… no. No, that can’t be.’

Thorin spent the rest of his watch wondering.

 

To be continued…


	19. Bilbo's Wish

Chapter 19: Bilbo’s Wish

Bilbo-

When Bilbo woke in the morning, the sun was shining in through a crack in the shuttered window right on his face. He was still tired and ached all over, but everyone else was awake so he rubbed his eyes and tried to properly wake up. He was in the middle of a yawn when he remembered what he’d told Thorin the previous night. He’d confessed about the whole misunderstanding, that he was definitely an adult. Then Thorin had said that Bilbo would be left behind when they went up to the mountain.

Bilbo assured himself, ‘I AM going up there! I signed the contract and a Baggins never breaks their word!’

If he could shake the cold before going up the mountain, he’d be very happy. Bilbo felt absolutely rotten. Oin pronounced it a ‘nasty cold’, but Bilbo thought he might die right there on the floor of Bard’s kitchen. He knew it was the kitchen because he’d been awake when Sigrid had stoked the fire to reheat the soup.

Bilbo closed his eyes, fully intending to take a nap, when his drifting mind floated uncomfortably back to his earlier confession to Thorin. So… Thorin knew. He knew Bilbo was an adult. Bilbo’s stomach twisted into a knot. He felt just as horrid as he had that time when he’d mistaken his father’s seedlings in the garden for weeds and yanked up every single one of them. His earnest desire to help had been answered with sharp words from his father and being banished from the garden for a whole week. Instead of facing his father’s disappointment, Bilbo waited to face the wrath of his dwarves. Or their laughter. He wasn’t sure which one he dreaded more. At least if they laughter at him, then they wouldn’t be angry and maybe… just maybe… they would let him stay. Maybe they would go through with the whole ‘fostering’ thing and that would make them all family.

“You look like a lad with some serious thoughts on his mind.” Bofur’s gentle, laughing voice made Bilbo open his eyes as Bofur sat down next to him.

“Hello.”

Bofur smiled. “Hello. How are you feeling?”

“Bad. Sleepy. My mind is running around in circles.” He shivered and pulled his blanket up closer to his chin. He was reassured by the fact that Bofur didn’t seem angry, but then Bofur was never angry about anything. He felt an anxious knot twist in his stomach as he waited for Bofur to say something, to make some comment about Bilbo being an adult. 

Bofur didn’t say anything except, “Bard let me have a good at his woodpile. Found a nice block of wood for you to practice on as soon as you’re feeling better. If the dragon doesn’t burn us to a cinder first, of course.”

It was as if he didn’t know about Bilbo’s confession. “Thank you. Where did I get a blanket?”

“It’s mine.” Bard’s boy, Bain, said from the table where he was apparently mending a small fishing net. “You looked cold. Is it alright?”

“Alright. Very nice. It’s lovely.” If only he had about three more, he might get warm. Belatedly, he heard his father’s stern voice snap about his manners. Bilbo looked up at Bain. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Bain grinned, broadly, clearly tickled to have been of help. What a nice boy.

Bilbo was fairly certain that Thorin hadn’t told anyone Bilbo’s secret. If he had, then everyone surely would have been talking about it. Fili and Kili would tease and Gloin might yell. What if they didn’t want to be friends, anymore? If Bombur yelled at him, he’d be devastated.

“Bofur?”

“Aye, lad?” Bofur had found a knife from somewhere – Sigrid’s kitchen, most likely – and had set about a new carving. Long curls of wood were drawn away from the stick he started with.

Bilbo coughed for a moment until Bofur helped him to sit up and struck him back a couple of times until the coughing stopped. Bilbo was left winded and red-faced. Finally, he said, “I’m really happy you wanted to teach me to carve.”

“Well, I’m really happy you wanted to learn.”

“Umm… do you think you’ll still want to after everything’s over?”

Bofur assured Biblo that he did, indeed, want to continue the lessons. He was gentle and kind and it assured Bilbo that Thorin hadn’t told everyone what Bilbo had confessed to hi. Why he wouldn’t, Bilbo had no idea. But, Thorin was a lot smarter than Bilbo was so he must have had a reason.

“Do you think Gloin will still teach me how to use an ax? He’s going to be very rich and powerful after we get to Erebor. He’ll be very busy with his wife and son and tidying up the mountain. Everyone’s going to be busy with cleaning and… and… they’ll all be busy.”

“Not that busy.” Bofur shrugged away Bilbo’s concern. “Gloin’s chomping at the bit to get an ax in your hand.” Bofur peeled another long shaving of wood off the block. “No one’s going to forget you. Don’t you worry so much. Everything will work out.”

After a breakfast of bread and cheese, everyone began to make ready for the day. Bard and Thorin and Balin conferred quietly in a corner of the house and, after a moment, Bard began to pace back and forth while his children watched him warily until Sigrid handed out orders. Tilda, go collect the washing. Bain, we need some firewood. She was obeyed without question, again. Bard had been quite right when he’d told them all that Sigrid ruled the roost.

Thorin interrupted Bard’s pacing when he said, “I have to.”

Bard shook his head. “You won’t find him a… pleasant business partner. The Master of Lake Town is not a good man.”

“Good or not, I still must speak with him. We need supplies and weapons.” Thorin gave Bard a solemn look. “The cooperation of the Master of Lake Town is necessary.”

“Of course,” Bard answered. “I wish I could have helped you more with the weapons. But just remember: he won’t give anything away. He’s not a generous man. He will give you a fine speech and wax poetic about the this, that, and the other thing, but nothing you get from him for will be a gift. He will expect payment of one type or another.”

“I have met few truly generous people in my life,” Thorin said. “Everyone wants something.”

At that point, Balin interrupted them and asked to have a quiet word with Bard. The two of them went upstairs and Thorin, oddly enough went to stand with Sigrid, who looked at him, curiously. 

“What’s going on?” Sigrid asked.

“Your father needs to know about what you told me earlier.”

Sigrid stiffened and her eyes went very wide with alarm. “Oh, no! You don’t understand. Father will KILL him!”

Thorin shrugged. “If he doesn’t, I may. That Alfrid sounds like a thoroughly unpleasant man.”

“Siggy!” Bard shouted and then came thundering down the stairs where he entirely ignored everyone but Sigrid. He went straight to her and pulled her into a tight hug. Then he looked at her, pale and shaking, “Why didn’t you tell me about Alfrid?”

Through this all, Bilbo had no idea what they were talking about but he couldn’t bring himself to interrupt.

Tilda had no such reservations. “What’s going on?” She piped up in that clear, sweet voice of hers. “What did Alfrid do?”

No one answered her.

Sigrid told her father, “I didn’t want to make more trouble. There’s already so much of it and if people thought I was lying…” She sniffled. Her eyes filled with tears. “I didn’t want to make things harder for you.”

“I don’t think you’re lying!” Bard hugged her, again. Then he seemed to withdraw into himself, thinking. “You’ll be leaving town, today.”

“What?” She had most awful betrayed look on her face. “But you said you believed me! Why are you sending me away?”

“It’s not a punishment, I swear it’s not. But I want you safe.” He cupped her face in his big hands and sighed, sadly. “To think my own child isn’t safe in my home. How can I have fallen so far that I failed you so miserably?”

“Father, you didn’t fail - ”

“You’ll be going to Mirkwood.”

At that pronouncement, the whole room fell quiet. Thorin looked as if he wanted to shout his disapproval to the world, but Dori had a hand on his arm and Bilbo had no doubt at all that it was that hand to kept Thorin quiet.

“Are you sure about, lad?” Balin asked, doubtfully. “The elves?”

“I have a friend there. He’ll look out for Sigrid.” Bard sounded very certain. He turned his full attention back to Sigrid. “I won’t have you in danger.”

Bilbo wanted a family.

He couldn’t help but wonder with dread whether or not he’d lost his chance to have a family.

‘I wish I’d never told Thorin.’

“She’ll be fine.” Bombur came to sit on Bilbo’s other side. His great bulk was intimidating at the best of times, but with Bilbo laying on the floor, Bombur looked like a mountain towering over him. “Elves adore children near as much as dwarves. She’ll be safe in Mirkwood.” Bombur ruffled Bilbo’s hair, affectionately. “Don’t look so worried.” 

‘Thorin really didn’t tell them.’ Bilbo’s hands clutched tightly at the blanket covering him and he pulled it up to his chin. His mind felt like it was all knotted up. He didn’t want his dwarves to stop caring, but he was almost certain he HAD to tell the truth. It was the right thing to do. Then he thought back to his conversation with Thorin the previous night. ‘I’m not even sure Thorin believed me. But wouldn’t he have said something to someone? I should tell Bombur,’ Bilbo thought. ‘I really should. Or I should talk to Nori. Or Dori. Or Bofur. Someone.’ He lay there silently. ‘I’ll do it… later.’

Everyone began to get ready for their confrontation with the Master of Lake Town. It was bound to be an interesting meeting if Bard saw the cretin who’d come sniffing around Sigrid.

“Thorin?” Dori said. “Are you ready to go?”

Thorin’s eyes went wide for a fraction of a second and if Bilbo hadn’t known how incredibly brave and intelligent Thorin was, he might have thought that Thorin looked a bit nervous. “I need to talk to Balin.”

“You already spoke to him. You need to calm down; this is all going to work out. You and Balin discussed what you’d say and how you would say it. He’s going to stand right next to you, just in case. All you need to do is say ‘hello’ ask to borrow a few things and promise to repay. The worst this Master of Lake Town can do is say ‘no’.”

“You’re not the one that has to get up there and talk in front of everyone. There will be people there. You just watch – there will be a dozen completely unnecessary people hanging about to just see what’s going on.” Thorin leaned forward and rested his forehead against Dori’s. “When this is over, I’m going to marry you. I’m going to marry you and then you can do all the talking for me.”

“I’m sorry,” Dori chuckled. “But Kings need to talk.”

“I’m going to abdicate. Fili can be king. I’m going back to the Shire with Bilbo and I’m going to build road signs.”

Dori laughed. “Stop being sulky. We have people to impress.”

Bilbo struggled to sit up. He looked up at Dori and Thorin. “I want to come, too.”

“You’re staying here. You’re sick.”

Bilbo scowled at Dori. “And Kili caught an arrow with his leg. He’s going.”

“He’s not sick, though. He’s having Ori and Fili help him to walk and stand, so he won’t have any pressure on it at all. He’ll be fine. You need to rest.”

Bilbo was going to demand to know why Thorin hadn’t told everyone that Bilbo was an adult. He was going to inform Dori that he was certainly no child. But Dori didn’t play fair. Just as Bilbo opened his mouth, Dori knelt down next to him and gently pushed Bilbo back down onto the floor. He covered Bilbo with the blanket and took a moment to stroke his fingers though Bilbo’s hair. It wasn’t fair. Bilbo looked up at Dori and couldn’t help but remember one of the few times he’d gotten sick as a child. His father, normally aloof and cool, had been surprisingly tender. He’d sat at Bilbo’s bedside and told him stories and brought him hot broth and he’d petted Bilbo’s hair. It was one of the warmest memories Bilbo had of his father. It wasn’t fair for Dori to bring back that memory by petting Bilbo’s hair.

Bilbo felt all his rebellion and fight evaporate under the assault of Dori’s gentle kindness. He lay on the floor, quiet and docile, quite willing to do whatever Dori asked him to do.

“You just stay here and rest,” Dori told Bilbo with an easy smile. “We won’t be long at all.”

It seemed like they were gone for hours. Bilbo couldn’t sleep, but he did try to rest. While he did, Sigrid worked at cleaning fish for their lunch. The small knife she used to gut the fish was no longer than four or five inches long, but it did the job very well. Bard had, of course, gone with the dwarves to speak to the Master of Lake Town, but Thorin hadn’t left Bard’s house unguarded. 

“Can’t you sleep?”

Bilbo turned his head to look at Sigrid. She had moved a little table close to one of the windows to work at so she might look at the street. With the dwarves marching proudly through the town, there was no reason to keep all the windows shuttered.

The house was quiet but for the two of them as Tilda had gone upstairs to fetch her bed linens so they might be washed and Bain had been given leave by his father to go line fishing off the docks. So it was just Bilbo and Sigrid.

“Just some things playing on my mind.” He certainly didn’t need to worry her with his worries. She really was just a child, after all.

Bilbo might have said more, but at that moment, Sigrid turned to look back out the window and jumped to her feet with a very unladylike curse. She reached for the door, but was seconds too late as it was thrown open and in walked a small human man.

The two humans stared at each other for a moment before the man closed the door behind him.

Sigrid’s hands balled into fists. “You need to leave. You’re not welcome here, Alfrid.” Her voice didn’t shake a bit and Bilbo was very proud of the young lady.

“Don’t be like that.” Alfrid’s voice was oily. “You’re a friendly girl. Everyone knows what a good girl you are. I just want to talk.”

“I don’t want to talk to you.” Sigrid stiffened her back and pointed at the door. “Leave!”

Alfrid grabbed Sigrid by the wrist and gave a yank that pulled her close to him. “You will come serve the master.”

“You get away from her!” Bilbo was sure his voice would have been downright threatening – Thorin would have been very proud! – if he hadn’t had a stuffy nose. With a bit of a struggle, Bilbo got to his feet. He was lightheaded for just a moment but scowled fiercely at the little human man. He was bigger than a dwarf, far bigger than Bilbo, but not nearly so big as Bard. “What kind of nonsense is this? Barging in uninvited into someone’s home? It’s absolutely… absolutely…” He couldn’t think of a word to describe how awful it was. “It’s rude!”

“What is this?” Alfrid wrinkled his nose at Bilbo with obvious disdain. His eyes traveled from Bilbo’s ears down to his furry feet. “What is this thing?”

“An elf!” Sigrid burst out. “He’s an elf!”

“What?” Bilbo frowned at Sigrid.

“Father found him and he sent word back to the elves in Mirkwood to see if anyone lost an elf child.” The lie to scare Alfrid away was desperate, but Sigrid held firm. “The elves should be coming soon to get him. Soon. They’ll be here very soon - a whole lot of elves. Father will be back any minute, too.”

He turned his beady eyes back to Sigrid, apparently dismissing Bilbo altogether. “Then we’d best use this time to talk, hadn’t we?”

Bilbo felt a rush of hot anger when Sigrid tried pulling her arm away from Alfrid, but he wouldn’t let go. While Alfrid was a small man, he was still bigger and stronger than Sigrid. “Let her go!”

Alfrid rolled his eyes. “And I suppose you’ll make me?”

Bilbo took a deep breath and hollered, “Bombur!”

At once, Bombur appeared from where he’d been upstairs with Tilda. Naturally, he held his massive, iron ladle in on hand, resting it against his shoulder as he walked down the stairs in his rolling gait. He didn’t pause, even when he saw Alfrid holding onto a struggling Sigrid. His hand tightened around the handle of his ladle in a dangerous way.

“What’s going on?” Tilda, all childish excitement and curiosity, bound down the stairs after Bombur. The only reason she didn’t rush right to her sister was that Bombur snagged her arm as she tried to pass him and gave her a gentle push towards Bilbo. Bilbo took Tilda’s hand and intended to take her as far from the impending confrontation as possible, but Alfrid spoke up.

“And this is little Tilda, eh?” He gave Sigrid a significant look. “If you refuse my generous offer, maybe I can tempt the little lady. She’s old enough to work.”

Bilbo felt sick at the suggestion, even though he wasn’t entirely sure what ‘work’ Alfrid wanted Sigrid to do. The way Alfrid leered at both girls was nauseating and Bilbo couldn’t stop himself from putting a protective arm over Tilda’s shoulders. Bombur looked ready to smash Alfrid’s head right off his shoulders.

They were all shocked by an animalistic growl from Sigrid. She had stopped pulling away from Alfid and glared up at him with nothing but hate in her eyes. “Don’t you even look at my little sister!” Then she lurched forward and bit Alfrid on the hand that held her. She sank her teeth in deeply enough that even when Alfrid cried out and released her, she didn’t release him. She was like a wild dog with a bone and she didn’t let go until Alfrid hit her on the side of the head and she was knocked away.

Bombur swung his ladle once, but Sigrid was closer to Alfrid… and her gutting knife resting on the table near the window where she’d left it. She grabbed the small knife, a few scales still on the blade, and swung it in a wide, clumsy arch at Alfrid. She missed her mark when he dodged backwards, but she was determined and swung again.

Alfrid threw open the door. “You’ve gone mad!”

“You look at my sister again and I’ll murder you!” She chased Alfrid a good ten yards before Bain rounded a corner. 

Bilbo, Bombur, and Tilda watched it all from the doorway of Bard’s home.

Bain took only a second to see his enraged sister chasing Alfrid before he threw himself at Alfrid. Bain wasn’t a large boy, but he aimed for Alfrid’s knees and tripped the man. They went down in a heap and Bain got in one solid punch before Alfrid knocked him aside and was on his feet, bolting to get away from Sigrid.

“You keep away from my sister!” Bain screeched.

Still clutching her knife and her whole face twisted with hate, Sigrid only stopped when she reached Bain and watched Alfrid escape. Her face softened when she looked at Bain and reached down to help him to his feet. On shaking legs, she returned to her home, Bain following at her heels. For a long moment, Sigrid stood in the middle of the room as if she didn’t see or hear any of them.

“Siggy? Are you alright?” Tilda hesitantly approached and put a hand on her sister’s hand. When she did, Bilbo carefully took the knife away from Sigrid.

Sigrid began to cry silently. She fell down to her knees and put her hands over her face. 

Without any hesitation at all, Bombur set his ladle down and gave the girl a warm hug. “There, there. You’re alright. You did very well. What a brave warrior you are.”

Tilda, too, hugged Sigrid, though she didn’t seem to understand what was happening. Bain joined the group, swearing up and down that he wouldn’t ever let Alfrid near them, again.

Bilbo stood watching the whole scene play out and had no idea what he could do to help. Part of him was repelled by the violence of the whole episode, but a larger part of him was awed by the little family’s love for one another. Sigrid had not only stood up to a man who terrified her for her sister’s sake, but she had attacked him and run him off. Bain joined in the fight even though he didn’t know what was going on. Bard was willing to send his daughter far away to protect her.

‘I want this,’ Bilbo wrapped his arms around himself. ‘I want a family. I don’t care if they treat me like a child forever - I want my dwarves. I want my family. I wish I’d never told Thorin.’ 

 

To be continued…


	20. Bard's Friend

Chapter 20: Bard’s Friend

 

Dori-

Dori woke at the first sound of voices. He had never been a heavy sleeper and even Sigrid’s soft voice was enough to wake him. He lay on his bedroll and listened while she told Thorin of the stranger who’d crept into her home and frightened her so very badly. 

It absolutely enraged Dori. Still, he kept his peace and let Thorin comfort her. He would deal with the situation before they left Lake Town.

Shortly after, Dori got up to take his turn at watch and let Thorin get some sleep.

The whole house was silent but for snoring. He saw Thorin immediately when he woke, sitting in a chair at the table. Thorin sat with his legs stretched out in front of him and a pensive, unhappy look on his face. That was nothing unusual; Thorin did tend to get lost in his thoughts. So Dori went to him and put a hand on his shoulder to get Thorin’s attention.

“Bilbo told me that he is an adult.”

Dori chuckled. “Really?”

“Really. He was most certain about it.”

Dori turned to look at Bilbo, nearly buried under a pile of blankets that everyone had been happy to share with him. “He’s sick, my love. I’m surprised he didn’t tell you he was a mermaid.”

It almost made Thorin laugh.

“I might have been more inclined to believe it.” Thorin sighed. “Do you suppose there’s anything to it? He didn’t seem feverish; Oin would have noticed. Everything we’ve seen of him says that he is a child. But why lie about such a thing?”

Dori shrugged. “Who knows? He’s had a rough life up until now, fending for himself. Maybe he feels as if he shouldn’t be relying on other people so much. That would be a shame.”

Thorin ran a hand over the top of his head and then scratched at his beard. “I suppose you’re right. He did seem certain.”

“I’m sure he did.” Dori looked over to where Bilbo slept and, very slowly his smile slipped away. What if…? But he didn’t want to even think about it. If – IF – Bilbo was an adult and they had been treating him like a little child for so many long weeks… how could he forgive them? He was an overly polite little fellow, so it was entirely possible that he simply hid his true feelings to avoid embarrassing everyone. ‘He’s a child,’ Dori firmly told himself. ‘He must be.’ Then he turned his mind away from that subject.

Later, when they’d all returned from an audience with the Master of the City – a thoroughly unpleasant man no matter how one looked at it - and found Sigrid in tears in Bombur’s arms, that strong dislike Dori had been feeling towards the stranger harassing the girl blossomed into fury.

“Bilbo, dear,” Dori caught sight of Bibo cuddling Tilda, who was both alarmed and confused. “Are you alright? Tilda, are you hurt? Sit down, both of you, and rest a bit.”

The girl shook her head at once. “I’m alright, but Sigrid and Bain were awful angry at that man. I never saw her act like that!”

Indeed, Sigrid had seemed to be a most gentle girl. To hear that she had chased off a man with a knife… it was hard to believe at best.

Bilbo gave Tilda a little squeeze. “She was very upset. Nothing to worry about, I’m sure.” 

That cemented Dori’s decision. He was definitely going to kill the cretin. He wouldn’t let little Bilbo or any other child be endangered by someone like that.

“If you don’t kill him,” Bombur later told Dori in that soft, gentle voice of his. “I will.”

Bombur was no killer. For all that he fought with the courage of a lion, to say something so cold-blooded was quite beyond him. It was enough to shock Dori into staring at him. “Oh?”

“My children will be coming to live near here in a very short time – luck be with us – and I won’t have a creature like that lurking near my children.”

Dori patted Bombur’s shoulder reassuringly. “Don’t you worry about that one.” After all, that was what Dori was for. When Bard was helping his children pack small bags of clothes and food for their escape to Mirkwood, Dori told Thorin, “I’m going to kill Alfrid.”

Thorin nodded, slowly. “I thought you might.” Thorin looked over at Bilbo, finally recovering from his cold enough to sit up and chat with Ori. “Will you escort them to Mirkwood? I don’t want you captured by the elves, I don’t want you even in arms reach, but Bard has been kind to us. I don’t like that children need to escape their own home because of a monster. I don’t like it at all. Will you escort them at least part way to ensure they arrive safely? I will send the others if you think you’ll need help.”

“Of course I’ll go and I can take care of myself.”

So, no more than fifteen minutes later, Dori accompanied Bard’s family out of town. No one stopped them or questioned them. They spoke very little on the way to Mirkwood with Bain helping his father to steer the barge and Sigrid lost in clearly unhappy thoughts. Only Tilda seemed to find the fun in their unexpected adventure, though from what Bombur had said, it seemed that while Tilda had seen her sister’s explosive rage at Alfrid, she hadn’t really understood the threat.

“We’ve never met father’s friend,” Tilda cheerfully told Dori as they disembarked from the barge and began to hike towards the tree line of Mirkwood. “But father goes to visit quite often and always has nice stories to tell about his friend, so I think he must be a very good person. I’m sure father wouldn’t like someone unpleasant.”

Tilda had been speaking almost since they’d left Lake Town. She never seemed to run out of things to say, but Dori found that he didn’t mind her chatter. She was polite and well-spoke. She always had a happy smile and seemed genuinely interested in anything Dori had to tell her.

“I’m going to go to Lonely Mountain, too,” she had told him shortly after they’d escaped Lake Town. 

“Oh, really?” He indulgently smiled. “And what would you be wanting in our mountain?”

“I’m going to be a blacksmith and father said dwarves are the best blacksmiths so I will have to go there to learn.”

While Tilda was nearly as tall as Dori, she was a thin, fragile little creature. It was almost comical to think of her trying to swing a hammer over a forge. “I’m sure you’ll be a very fine smith.”

Tilda nodded her agreement. “I will. I’m going to make lots of arrowheads for father. He likes to practice shooting. He can’t do it in town, but he has a really big bow and he likes to shoot out on the grasslands around the town. I’m going to make lots and lots of arrowheads for father so he can go shooting all the time and be very happy.”

Dori gave Tilda a fond pat on the top of her head. She was the kind of child that no one could possibly dislike and he wished her all the happiness in the world. When they took back the mountain, he decided, he would save a place for her.

“So, when you go to the mountain, how will you know if the dragon is still there?” Tilda asked.

“Someone will go in to look,” Dori answered.

“Who?”

“Well, it was to be Bilbo, but we can’t do that, now. It’s a shame as we’ve been told that we need him. The dragon knows the smell of dwarves, but it won’t know a hobbit’s scent.”

Tilda frowned. She hugged her doll and looked thoughtfully up at the clouds. “Wouldn’t it be better for a dwarf to go in?”

“But he knows what a dwarf smells like. If he’s asleep, it will wake him up.”

Tilda slowly shook her head. “No. I don’t think so. See, when Sigrid makes fish stew the whole house smells like fish. If Bain caught a fish and brought it home, you can’t smell it at all. That new fish might as well not be there. But if he brings a fish home when Sigrid is baking bread, you can smell it straight away. So if the dragon has been surrounded by the smell of dwarves for so long, won’t a hobbit going in draw his attention? If one more dwarf goes in, I wouldn’t think he’d even notice it.”

Dori was utterly stunned. It made sense. It was logical. “Good heavens, child,” Dori laughed. “You’re brilliant. Did you know that?”

Tilda grinned up at Dori and gave her doll another hug, pleased to have made Dori happy.

Near the edge of the Mirkwood, Dori said to Bard, “I am not certain my presence would be welcome by your friend. I wouldn’t want any ugly scenes with the children around. Perhaps I should stay behind.”

“You don’t have to worry about my friend,” Bard assured him, confidently. “He is the very soul of gentility. A more kind and understanding person you will never meet. He won’t cause any trouble for you.”

As much as Dori would have liked to believe Bard – and he certainly didn’t think Bard was lying – it was hard to imagine any of Mirkwood elves being kind or understanding when it came to dwarves. Then he thought of Captain Tauriel who had so taken Kili’s attention and seemed to return it just as strongly. The young prince of Mirkwood hadn’t been a bad sort, either. Young and a bit silly, but no honest person could have called him malicious. He had to concede that there were some good elves in the dark forest of Mirkwood and he hoped Bard was right about his friend.

It was just at the edge of Mirkwood when they were met by Captain Tauriel.

“A coincidence to meet you again,” Dori said, surprised.

“I am on patrol.”

That the captain of the guard should have been assigned to patrol a border that no one was likely to cross as Mirkwood was hardly a thriving kingdom and had little offer any invaders seemed odd, at best. He said as much to her.

Elves didn’t often blush, but Tauriel’s fair face turned rosy red. “I am assigned this post to remind me to take better care of my responsibilities.”

Of course, Dori realized. She hadn’t been able to stop their escape and hadn’t been all that enthusiastic about capturing Dori when she’d found him. King Thranduil would have realized what had happened and had pinned the blame solely on Captain Tauriel. She was responsible so it fell on her shoulders. He felt rather badly for her.

But then she smiled. “It is good to see you survived your escape and the orcs. Your fellows escaped, also?”

“Yes, all of us made it out. Not a life lost.”

“Kili was shot.”

He had wondered if she would mention that. “Yes, but he’s still alive and our healer is looking after him.”

Her smile broadened. “Good. That’s very good.” Then she turned her attention to Bard. “It’s good to see you, too, friend. What brings you here? We weren’t expecting you for another seven-day.”

“I’m sorry for the trouble. But I need to speak to Anduil right away. Is there any way…?”

“Of course. Wait here for a bit and I’ll fetch him.” She was off like a shot, bolting into the forest so quickly that it was as if she’d vanished. 

Bard sat his children down and had them all eat, even sulky Bain who’d protested loud and hard that he ought to stay in Lake Town to help his Father deal with Alfrid. His protests had lost steam when Bard had told the boy that he needed to look after his sisters. The look Bard shot at Sigrid told her not to argue and she wisely held her tongue. After all, she most likely wanted both her younger siblings to be safely away from Lake Town. Tilda sat her little rag doll on her lap while she ate and kept chatting to Dori. Dori kept a sharp eye on the forest, wary of sneaking elves, until Bard’s friend finally arrived.

King Thranduil.

Dori gaped. He wasn’t proud of it – not many things could catch him off guard – but the friendly, open expression on Thranduil’s face when he saw Bard was utterly shocking. King Thranduil looked quite different than the last time Dori had seen him. His crown and fine robes were gone, replaced by the simple tunic and hose seen on the common elves. He even had a bow slung over one shoulder and a quiver belted at his waist. He looked like a common elf out for a day of hunting.

“Anduil!” Bard raised a hand in greeting and went straight to King Thranduil, so obviously at easy and comfortable with the elven king that Dori was tempted to pinch himself to see if he was dreaming. Bard happily embraced King Thranduil.

‘If Thorin could see this…’

“It’s very good to see you, friend,” King Thranduil replied as he returned the embrace, an act that shocked Dori far more than Bard’s familiarity. “The guard told me you have an urgent matter to discuss. What has happened?”

“I have a favor, a large favor, to beg of you. Of course you may refuse, this is sudden and I had never dreamed of asking such a thing, but,” Bard took a deep breath and, after a quick glance over his shoulder to where Sigrid, Tilda, and Bain stood with Dori, said, “I need to get my children out of Lake Town. It’s only for a short while, I hope.”

King Thranduil saw Dori then. For just a split second, his face froze with anger. Then he looked back at Bard and his expression softened. “I will gladly guard your children, but may I ask why?”

Bard told him about the threats against Sigrid and Tilda. “And as for Bain,” Bard gave a helpless shrug. “He says no one has threatened him, but I would feel more at ease without him in harm’s way.”

Thranduil’s eyes narrowed. He looked at the children, then back at Bard. “I will guard them as if they were my own flesh and blood. Will you not stay? Is there danger to yourself?”

“No. No, I can’t stay. I need to take care of this. There were rumors about other girls being hurt and I can’t let it continue. I’ll do what I need to do and then I’ll be back for them.” Bard beckoned to his children and they obediently came forward. Tilda, of course, had no hesitation about introducing herself to King Thranduil. Bain gave a nervous little bow. Sigrid awkwardly looked at her father until he frowned. “What’s wrong?”

“Must we stay? I… I don’t think I like strangers, much.”

Bard cast a look at Dori. “You didn’t mind our dwarven guests.”

Sigrid looked thoroughly ashamed of herself. “I’m bigger than them. Sorry, Dori.”

“Not at all, dear, not at all.” He couldn’t possibly take her calling his people short as an insult. Clearly, that wasn’t what she’d meant. She was frightened and had latched onto the idea that if she was bigger than the people around her, then she wouldn’t get hurt. Dori silently cursed Alfrid for doing such a thing to the poor girl.

“If I make you nervous,” King Thranduil said to Sigrid. “Perhaps you would like a friend to stay close by.” He made a motion with one hand at the forest behind him and Captain Tauriel walked out to join them. “This is Tauriel. She is strong and brave – the best warrior in all Mirkwood. She will keep you safe.”

Sigrid happily accepted the company of the lady and was willing to go into Mirkwood with Captain Tauriel at her side. Bain followed Sigrid while Tilda was content to hold King Thranduil’s hand as they walked.

King Thranduil hadn’t even tried to have Dori recaptured. The reason seemed clear to Dori – he couldn’t possibly give any such orders without giving away his masquerade to Bard. Why the elf king should play the part of a commoner was a mystery, but he obviously wanted Bard to believe it. Whatever the reason, Dori was simply happy to walk back to Lake Town with Bard and not be locked up, again.

Back in Lake Town, Thorin met them outside Bard’s home and took a moment to talk to Bard about keeping Bilbo in Lake Town rather than taking him up the mountain.

“I would be happy to host him, of course.” Bard gave Thorin a hard look. “I hope that you do not make this for a permanent arrangement, though. As fond as I am of the boy, I wouldn’t like to be the one to explain why he must live with humans for the rest of his life.”

“I will do my best not to let that happen.”

Thorin turned to leave only to stop short when he saw Bilbo standing in the doorway. His fists were bunched up at his sides and a terrible scowl was on his face. “I’m NOT staying here!”

Thorin sighed. “Bilbo…”

“No! You need to listen to me!” Bilbo marched right up to Thorin and poked him on the chest with a finger. “I signed a contract and I intent to fulfill my end of the bargain. I will not have it be said that a Baggins does not keep his word. I’m perfectly healthy, now. I have come all this way – orcs and giants and elves and spiders and sleeping on pinecones and mosquitoes and no baths and… and everything else! – because I wanted to help you and I’m not going to be stopped now!”

“And I am not going to throw you at a dragon.” Thorin walked around Bilbo and into the house.

Bilbo caught up with Thorin at once and grabbed hold of his sleeve, giving it an insistent tug. “You can’t do this!”

“I think I can.” Thorin could have pulled away from Bilbo with just the smallest effort, but he stopped walking and turned to face Bilbo. “You are NOT coming up to the mountain.”

With his fists balled at his sides, Bilbo grumbled, “If you don’t take me with you, I’ll just follow behind.”

“Then I’ll have to ask Bard to lock you in a room until I’m well gone and there’s no chance of you following.”

Bilbo’s voice rose, “You are being completely unreasonable!”

“And your shouting is doing quite a bit to convince me about your level of maturity.”

“What?!” Bilbo shouted before he turned red and took a deep breath. When he spoke, his voice was carefully controlled. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be impolite.”

“You’re forgiven. You’re also still staying behind.” Thorin walked around Bilbo, again, and only turned to face him when Bilbo began to splutter, again. “Unless, of course, you don’t want to help Kili get well. I had told Oin that you would help him care for Kili. It does seem that Kili is starting to get a fever and poor Oin can’t possibly stay awake for the days on end it will take for Kili to fully recover. IF Kili fully recovers.” Thorin shook his head with exaggerated anguish. “It will break my heart if my beloved nephew dies because there is no one to care for him while I am trying to win back his homeland for him. His mother will be devastated. She may not survive the loss.” For emphasis, Thorin put a hand over his heart.

Dori rolled his eyes. Thorin laid it on too thick. 

“That’s not fair.” Bilbo turned on his heel and stomped away without another word.

“Maybe not,” Thorin said, with a good amount of satisfaction, after Bilbo was gone. “But it worked.”

When they made ready to leave Lake Town, Dori was shocked to realize how many of their company they were leaving behind.

Kili couldn’t possibly hike up the mountain with his injured leg. He would do himself permanent harm, Oin had warned, and likely walk with a limp for the rest of his life if he didn’t ruin his leg entirely. 

Ori would stay with Kili, Dori had earlier warned Thorin. “You won’t get Ori away from his Prince at a time like this. I can assure you of that.”

“And we lose Oin, too,” Balin added in. He shook his head. “We all know Oin won’t leave his patient.”

“You’ve got the right of it.” Oin was suddenly with them. “I don’t know what was on that arrowhead, but something is not right. The wound hasn’t started to heal at all. He’s lucky that the bleeding’s stopped, but that’s the only improvement I see. I will stay behind with him and,” he turned his eyes directly to Thorin. “It’s good that you’ve decided not to take him up the mountain because if you were going to let him come along, I’d have to pull rank on you.”

Thorin blinked. “You can pull rank of a prince?”

“I’m a physician; I can pull rank on anyone.”

There was no possibility of Fili leaving his brother’s side. Fighting a dragon and seeing his future kingdom weren’t as important as his brother’s welfare. There had never really been any question of what was most important to Fili.

Kili was, predictably, not happy at being left behind, but he loved and admired Thorin far too much to argue or fight with him. Ori was disappointed that he wouldn’t see the dragon, but seemed pleased that Kili wouldn’t be going up the mountain and happily informed the group that he would, as Dori had foretold, be staying with Kili. 

And last, to no one’s surprise at all, Bilbo was to stay behind. Naturally, Nori would stay with Bilbo. 

As no one could find Bofur, he too would be left in Lake Town. 

From the roll of Bombur’s eyes, he knew exactly why Bofur was missing. Dori made a mental note to talk to Bofur about the drinking.

On the way out of the Lake Town, many of the humans came out to watch them leave. Dori spotted the well-dressed Master of Lake Town at the front of the crowd along with his lackey, Alfrid.

Thorin said, in a low grumble, “I thought you were going to kill that worm.” He took hold of Dori’s hand and gave it a squeeze. With Nori in Lake Town, he obviously felt bold… until Balin stepped up beside Thorin and cleared his throat in a loud manner before looking at the clasped hands, pointedly. Thorin sighed and released Dori’s hand. 

“I did kill him.”

“Then why is he still breathing?”

“Because he doesn’t know he’s dead, yet. I poisoned him, earlier. He’ll be dead in about seven days. With luck, we’ll have the mountain and be back for our people by then and a couple of deaths won’t cast any suspicion on us if we’re not here.”

Thorin paused. “’A couple of deaths’? Who else did you kill?”

“The Master of Lake Town. I suspect he was behind Alfrid’s actions – either allowing Alfrid to get away with such abysmal behavior or ordering Alfid to lure young girls to his house. Either way is disgusting. Never mind. The poison will work and they won’t be of any concern, any longer.”

Again, Thorin thought for a bit. “But you don’t know that the Master of Lake Town did anything wrong. Do you?”

“No. But even if he hadn’t, he is repulsive and would have been a terrible person for you to have to deal with once you are King Under the Mountain. If he is the ruler of the Lake Town people, our closest neighbors, you would have to put up with him for a long while. No, I think you’ll be happier dealing with Bard.” At Thorin’s questioning look, Dori said, “He is the heir of Dale, after all. I think it would be best for everyone if he were to take over the leadership of the local humans.”

“And you decided to arrange that?”

“Certainly. It’s only for your sake, my dear. I like to make your life as comfortable and easy as possible.”

“Thank you.”

The hike up the mountain was as long and taxing as they thought it might be, but there were no stone giants, no orcs, or anything else trying to kill them. Soon enough, they arrived at the location they looked for. The thrush knocked on the stone and, with the key, Thorin opened the hidden door. The tunnel leading into the mountain was dark and ominous. All the dwarves stood looking into the tunnel, silent and lost in their own thoughts and memories.

Dori gave himself a little shake to pull himself out of his thoughts. “Well, I’d best be heading in, then.”

“No.” Thorin had gone very pale.

“Someone has to and I really am the best choice.” Dori gestured to the tunnel. “We didn’t come so far to balk now.”

“I won’t send you…”

“You don’t send me anywhere, love.” Dori’s smile was honest and open. “I am not your servant. I go where I will and I take this task willingly. Besides that, who else would you have go in?” He gestured around their party. Not one of the dwarves backed down or even so much as averted their eyes. They would go in if Thorin asked them to. “Bilbo was hired for this job, but a child obviously can’t be held to a contract. Who else would you have do this?”

“I will do it!” Thorin burst out. “This is MY mountain. This is MY quest. I have no business being so cowardly as to ask someone else to face the dragon in my place. It’s bad enough that I let Gandalf convince me that a dwarf couldn’t possibly go in without waking the dragon, but if a dwarf must go in, then…”

“Then it will be me.” Dori gave Thorin’s arm a pat. “You can’t stop me. No one here can. So, you stay out here and wait for me. My dear, the fact is - you are too important to risk. You must survive to rule our people and taking such an unnecessary risk is simply not wise.”

“You will return.” It wasn’t a question.

“Of course. I don’t plan to fail.” Dori turned and walked into the tunnel that led into the mountain. All the dwarves watched him go, tense and worried.

The tunnel was dark and the floor rough underfoot. The whole place stank and was eerily silent. After a short time walking, the light from the mouth of the tunnel disappeared and Dori walked in utter darkness, alone. A few more steps and he very suddenly found himself at the end of the tunnel and looking out to the vast expanse of Erebor’s Treasury. There were acres of gold and gems, rare treasure beyond imagining. It was a truly awe inspiring vision.

“Wow! Look at all the shiny stuff!”

Dori whirled around at the sound of the familiar voice and found Bilbo standing just behind him. “What are you doing here?!”

Bilbo gave Dori a cross look. “Oin doesn’t need my help to take care of Kili; he’s got a whole handful of dwarves to help him. I signed the contract and a Baggins’ does NOT break his word!”

“But… how did you get by the others without being seen?” He must have snuck by them because none of them would have just let him trail after Dori if they’d seen him.

“I did tell Thorin I have a magic ring.” Bilbo crossed his arms in a sulky manner. “I guess he didn’t believe me.”

Dori opened his mouth to reply, but at just that moment, there was a rasp. The sound of something sliding easily across the hard coins that made up the majority of the treasury’s content. They heard the sharp jangle of metal against metal as the coins were disturbed. Dori turned back to the treasury, carefully keeping himself between the treasury and Bilbo. There was another rasping sort of noise before a great, scaled head rose out of the treasure.

Smaug.

 

 

To be continued…


	21. Precious Treasure

Chapter 21: Precious Treasure

 

Thorin-

 

The sun had set.

The mountain grew cold as night crept onward. Far below, to the East, Thorin could see the lights of Lake-Town as people lit candles in their homes. He thought of the people he’d left behind and felt a sudden chill – a tremble that ran down his spine – at how close Lake-Town seemed. He had thought they would be far enough away to be safe, but from Erebor’s peek, the little town seemed only a stone’s throw away.

It was a good time for Thorin to take the time to sort through his thoughts. Thoughts such as the knowledge that Kili had set his heart on an elf girl that Thorin knew nothing about and the knowledge that the elf girl, the trusted right-hand of Thranduil, returned those feelings. At least, Dori strongly suspected that the girl returned Kili’s feelings. Thorin would have to find a way to have a chat with her about her intentions. From there, Thorin’s mind slipped to Dori, venturing in alone to investigate the dragon. He could only pray that the dragon was dead. That way, Dori would have no trouble at all and Smaug wouldn't wake to destroy another town. Of course, that thought led Throin right to Bard’s family. Bard, who had been so good to them, was still in the town and his children sent away to the elves and were currently under Thranduil’s protection. Thorin had never before wished to see elves, but after what Dori had told him about the meeting between Bard and Thranduil, he did wish he’d gone with them. What wouldn’t he have given to see Thranduil play-acting as a commoner? At least the children were likely safe and guarded. That thought brought Thorin’s mind to Bilbo.

Thorin rubbed his tired eyes. Bilbo. He had insisted vehemently that he was a fully-grown hobbit. It seemed impossible, but, in all honesty, Thorin knew nothing about hobbits. He’d never even seen another hobbit, adult or child. Bilbo certainly seemed to behave as a child, at times, but he had lived alone in the Shire. His home was neat and orderly, certainly not what one would have expected from a neglected child. He was accustomed to smoking. The longer Thorin thought about it, the more it seemed that it could be possible. Thinking that Bilbo was a child could be a huge misunderstanding. If that was true, it was possible that Bilbo might be so offended by the mistake that he would leave them at the earliest possible moment. It would crush Dori if Bilbo left them. Bofur was ecstatic about getting his first apprentice and to lose him before they’d even signed a proper contract would be devastating.

Throrin had set his heart on having Bilbo as his foster. He’d planned to have a room in the royal wing of Erebor done up for Bilbo. He’d wanted to get married and see Bilbo standing with Fili, Kili, and Dis. He was going to teach Bilbo to braid his hair. All his plans… 

“What are you thinking of?” Balin spoke quietly when he stepped up to stand next to Thorin. “Not morbid thoughts, I hope.”

“No. Of course not.” He had been making himself rather depressed, but he was fairly certain that Balin wouldn’t want to hear that and Thorin liked to keep Balin happy.

“You’re lying, my boy.”

“Yes.” He really was a horrible liar. “Balin, Dori just went to face Smaug. My nephews are so far from me that I’ll never be able to protect them if something happens in Lake-Town. There is likely a dragon sleeping in my home. I have been worrying about the family we left behind in the Shire for so long that I think I’ve developed an ulcer.” He looked mournfully at Balin. “I keep thinking that if I had done this differently or that differently that everything would have worked out smoother. How do I defend the mountain if we do win it from the dragon? We have no military. I should have asked Dis to lead this quest, she would have known what do to, but how could I ask my dear little sister to do something so dangerous? Just once – ONCE! – I wish I knew for certain that I was doing the right thing.”

Balin put a warm hand on Thorin’s arm. “I wish I could reassure you. All you, all anyone, can ever do is your best. Dori will survive; he’s very good at that. The people we left in Lake-Town, including your boys, will take care of each other. Fili and Kili are well-trained. Dis can handly any dangerous situation as well as you can. As for the dragon… well. All we can do is wait and see. When we get Oin back, we’ll ask him about your ulcer.”

It was a little comfort, but talking to Balin always made Thorin feel better.

Then Nori was with them. He ran up to the group waiting outside the tunnel Dori had gone down and panted, “Where is he?! Where’s Bilbo?”

Thorin slapped his face, exasperated. “He ran off AGAIN?”

“Again.” Nori’s whole body slumped when he didn’t see Bilbo in the group. “I’d hoped he’d come up here. I swear, I blink and he vanishes! I must be the worst Dark Hands in history!”

Thorin froze.

Vanishes? Bilbo… vanishes?

Thorin knew he wasn’t smart, so he stood there for a moment while the thought ran around his head. After a time, he groaned. Bilbo had, indeed, spoken of a magic ring that made the wearer invisible. If he’d had something so dangerous the whole journey… oh the trouble he could have gotten into! He shuddered to think of what Fili or Kili would have gotten up to if they had been able to become invisible when they’d been children. Thorin’s sanity wouldn’t have survived the ordeal!

“He spoke of having a magic ring. I thought it a child’s fancy, but he did claim that wearing it could turn him invisible.”

For a long moment, Nori stared at Thorin, open-mouthed. “A magic… ring? Right. Of course. And you didn’t think I should know that?”

“As I said, I thought it was his imagination.”

“You thought wrong!” Nori turned away from Thorin to look at the entrance of the cavern. He scanned the group. “Dori? Where’s Dori?”

“He went in a few moments ago. Are the others alright in Lake-Town?”

“As well as they can be. Fili’s fuming, Kili’s sulking, Bofur has a hang-over, Oin is-“

A horrific sound emerged from the mountain. It was a deep roar that grew and grew until it seemed to fill the whole world with the monstrous noise. The mountain beneath their feet trembled violently. The roar faded, then grew, even louder.

“The dragon.” Thorin felt the blood drain from his face as he turned to look at tunnel entrance. He very suddenly realized where Bilbo had gone. Nori’s instincts really were very good. “No. Oh… Bilbo, you didn’t.” Even as he spoke, Thorin’s hand drifted down to the hilt of his sword hanging at his hip.

“What?” Nori grabbed Thorin’s arm, fear on his face. “What did Bilbo NOT do? The dragon?”

“He was angry when I told him he was to stay behind. He insisted that he had to face the dragon and seemed to believe that if he failed, he would have shamed his family.” 

Every one of the dwarves turned to the tunnel entrance. Someone cursed and then there was the sound of metal against metal as swords were drawn, but before anyone could move even an inch, Dori ran out of the caved with Bilbo clinging precariously to his back. Once outside, after Nori pulled Bilbo from Dori and began a frantic inspection to find wounds, Dori howled, “It's awake! The dragon's alive!” His backside was smoking. 

Thorin pulled off his coat and used it to smother the smoldering until Dori let out a sigh of relief. “I love your coat,” Dori panted with obvious relief. He turned and smiled at Thorin. “I love you and your coat. But Smaug is alive and awake and breathing fire!”

Then Smaug, indeed, soared out of the great opening of the mountain, the majestic entrance that had long ago been built to show off the might and skill of the dwarves of Erebor, and, to escape the dragon, Thorin led his company into the mountain. Unfortunately, Smaug followed them. There was a mad rush to escape the dragon and they only barely survived before Smaug, enraged, left the mountain and headed to Lake-Town.

Thorin’s stomach, as he looked down at Smaug flying on his great scaled wings to Lake-Town, heaved. He couldn’t stop it. There wasn’t a thing he could do to stop it, no way could he save even a single life.

‘Not again. Not again. Please… Erebor… Dale… no.’

“He’s got a missing scale on his belly,” Bilbo said, staring after Smaug. “I saw it. I’m sure I did! Can the thrush get word to Bard and tell him about the weakness?”

They hurried to find the little bird and then watched as it sped away to Lake-Town. Only moments later, with Smaug terrorizing the town, something happened. Smaug suddenly recoiled and twisted in the air. He let out a roar, then fell into the lake. The waters of the lake churned and roiled at the impact, but soon settled. Smaug did not rise from the depths.

“Bard shot him,” Bilbo breathed out the words in a whisper. “He made a perfect shot!”

“Dead?” Balin muttered. “He’s dead?”

For a long while, no one said anything.

Gloin let out a bark of a laugh. “He’s dead. Smaug is dead!” 

It was such a relief, so wonderful, that Thorin felt as if a massive weight were lifted off his shoulders. And then he watched Lake-Town burn and smoke and he went cold all over. His people were down there. His beloved nephews were there. Bard, who’d offered them nothing but kindness, who’d already had to send his children away for their own safety, was losing his home. Thorin felt sick, again.

Thorin watched the rising smoke, billowing into the sky, numb with horror.

Everyone was quiet.

Dori swayed unsteadily and might have fainted if Thorin hadn’t grabbed his arm.

“No.” Nori was at Thorin’s side, looking at Lake-Town. “Ori… Bofur…”

Bilbo stepped up to Thorin’s other side, pale and shaking. “It’s my fault. No. Oh, no. I did that. If I hadn’t gone in… if I hadn’t…” There was horror in his voice and it pained Thorin to hear it.

“Now, I won’t hear of that!” Dori was with Bilbo in an instant. “I don’t want to hear you say such a thing, again!”

“But it’s true!” Bilbo looked up at Dori, utterly horrified at what he’d done. “If I hadn’t gone in, Smaug wouldn’t have woken up and he wouldn’t have gone to Lake-Town and what if they’re all dead?! Kili and Fili and…” As Bilbo went on, speaking faster and faster, his breathing became gasps for air and he wrung his hands together with his distress. He was so worked up that his whole body seemed stiff and trembled with the power of his fear and guilt and self-loathing. “I killed them!”

“Rubbish.” It was Dwalin, who so rarely spoke to anyone, who interrupted Bilbo’s babbling. “The wizard is pretty smart, I hear. He’d have it that the smell of dwarves wakes up dragons. Who’s to say he’s wrong?”

Dori was quick to back-up Dwalin. “Right! Quite right! Gandalf has been right about so much that he was probably right in this, too. Maybe I was the one who woke the dragon and he didn’t smell you at all. Do you think I should throw myself off the mountain?”

“No.” Bilbo sniffled and wiped a tear off his cheek. “No, of course not. But… the others. They’re down there. We have to go get them.”

“And we will,” Thorin reassured Bilbo. He certainly didn’t want to leave anyone in that forsaken town, let alone his own nephews. His thoughts wandered to the other survivors of Lake-Town. The mountain was more than big enough to house all of Lake-Town and they likely would need to get everyone settled before winter set in. He would have to find some way to send word back to Dis so she could get everyone organized. Erebor would have to be fortified to keep would-be treasure hunters away until Thorin could rebuild the kingdom and get a proper military organized. He took a deep breath and forced a smile for Bilbo. “Of course we will go get them.”

But before anyone moved, Nori slipped up to Bilbo’s side and snapped something around Bilbo’s wrist. It was a thin band of gold with a single, silver bell attached. The bell jingled merrily when Bilbo raised his wrist up to look at it. “What’s this?”

“A warning.” Nori smirked, very pleased with himself. “I found it in the treasury when the angry lizard was having a tantrum and we were running every which way. It’s just what I was hoping to find.”

“What’s it supposed to warn me about?”

“It doesn’t warn you,” Nori said, smugly. “It warns me when you’re starting to wander.”

“Oh, now really- ”

“Yes, really! I am all done with you creeping away the minute my back is turned. How am I meant to take care of you if you won’t stay where you’re put?” Nori pointed sternly at Bilbo’s new cuff. “You’re wearing that until I can trust that you won’t disappear, again.”

“I could just take it off.”

Nori kept grinning. “It’s got a dwarven lock on it; it won’t open unless you know the secret and – even for you – that will take a while to figure out.”

Thorin stared at Bilbo’s cuff. The gold shone in the sunlight. The longer Thorin stared at it, the shinier it seemed to become. A slow fog seemed to seep over his mind. His whole body felt light, as if he weighed no more than a feather. He almost didn’t feel the hand on his shoulder and it took him a minute to register that Dori spoke to him.

“Thorin? Are you feeling alright?”

“Hmm? Oh. Yes. Yes.” He paused a moment and looked back at Bilbo’s cuff. “We need to go inside and see what the dragon has left us to work with.”

Bilbo jerked his head towards Thorin. “What? No! We have to go to Lake-Town!”

“And we will. We will go to Lake-Town after we see what can be salvaged from the dragon. I need to see the treasury, again.” And he did. It was the strangest compulsion, but he honestly felt that he HAD to just look at the wealth of Erebor – just for a moment – before he could leave to go down to Lake-Town.

“Treasury?” Bilbo looked mutinous. “Well, I don’t care what the dragon left; I’m going to fetch my dwarves!” He spun sharply on his heel and began to march back down the narrow path they’d all used to get to the hidden doorway leading into Erebor. Everyone one of them heard him angrily biting out the words, “Bebother and… overgrown salamander… ruddy gold… pots and pans! What I do for dwarves!” His irritated words were punctuated with every step by a dainty chime from the bell on his wrist.

Thorin ran after Bilbo and caught him by the shoulder. “And where do you think you’re going?”

“I told you. I’m going to Lake-Town and I’m going to get my dwarves. Maybe I’ll have some luck and I’ll be able to help other people, too.” With a surge of strength, Bilbo wrenched his arm away from Thorin and would have shot off down the path, but Nori stepped in his way and stopped him, both hands on Bilbo’s shoulders. “Nori, let me go!”

Nori was quiet for a moment. When he spoke, his voice was soft, desperately serious. “I will go, my Prince,” he told Bilbo. “Let me do my duty; I am your Dark Hands and I will do what you cannot or should not do. You stay here, where you will be safe, and I will go to Lake-Town. I will find our friends and bring them back.”

“But then YOU’LL get hurt.”

“Have faith in me, my Prince. You stay here with the company and allow me to do this. I will bring them back. On my honor, I won’t fail.”

It took Bilbo a long moment to nod his head. “Bring them back and yourself.”

Nori bowed solemnly, then turned and ran towards Lake-Town.

It was painfully hard to watch yet another of his people head into danger, but Thorin held his tongue. It WAS Nori’s place to do such a thing to keep Bilbo safe. “Dori?”

“Yes, my Prince?” Dori, like everyone else, stared down at Lake-Town. His tone was formal, expectant.

“Go find my people and return them to me.” Far better to have Dori and Nori together and bring the others home than to have either of them alone in such indescribable danger. “Bring my people home. My nephews…”

Just as Nori had done, Dori gave a formal, grave bow, then took off running to Lake-Town.

Still feeling a bit light-headed, Thorin led his people into Erebor. Without the threat of the dragon, there was time to really look, but Thorin’s mind kept drifting. The tunnel led them directly into the treasury, but once there, once faced with the immense wealth of Erebor, he couldn’t find any desire to leave it.

“The Arkenstone.” He muttered the words without really thinking about it. “We must find the Arkenstone.” Even as he spoke, he felt as if his mind were getting more and more cloudy until there was nothing but the gold around him and, more importantly, the Arkenstone.

The search went well enough with the few remaining dwarves hunting for the Arkenstone in the vast treasury, but Thorin’s head grew steadily foggier and, soon, he could focus only on the gem. Then the humans and the elves came and there was arguing and unpleasantness and, suddenly, Thorin was dangling Bilbo over the edge of the high battlements on the outside walls of Erebor.

It was so confusing. He was yelling and people were yelling at him. He heard Gandalf yell and looked down. Yes, there stood Gandalf with Bard and Thranduil far below. Bilbo struggled to get away from Thorin. But it all seemed distant, as if it were a dream. He found himself shaking Bilbo like a ragdoll.

Bofur grabbed Thorin and tried to wrestle him away from the edge, but Thorin was so angry, so unspeakably furious and he would not be moved. Still, Bofur tried. “Don’t do it!” Bofur shouted, yanking with all his strength. “Don’t you dare!”

A hand seized hold of Thorin’s shoulder and threw him backwards, sending him crashing into a stone wall hard enough that he slumped to the floor and, for a moment, he saw stars. When his vision cleared, Dori stood over him. 

“What do you think you’re doing, my love?” Dori’s voice was cold as winter. He stood there with his arms crossed over his chest.

Behind Dori, Thorin could see Bofur with his arm around Bilbo who stood frozen with wide, terrified eyes. Bifur stood on Bilbo’s odher side and Bombur, glaring, stood in front of all of them, as if to shield them. Thorin could hear Bofur whispering comforting words to Bilbo. 

“Thorin!” Dori barked, snapping Thorin’s attention back to him. “What were you doing to that boy?!”

It was a struggle to focus. The Arkenstone. Bilbo had stolen it and given it to the enemy. That was the reason. He opened his mouth to tell Dori, but the look on Dori’s face made Thorin hesitate and he didn’t understand why. He wasn’t in the wrong! Bilbo shouldn’t have given away the treasure. The Arkenstone belonged to Thorin. It was his treasure, his most precious treasure.

“Please,” Little Bilbo spoke up from where he stood with Bofur. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry I made you angry, but I didn’t know what else to do! I thought it would end all this. I just want everyone to be safe. I thought that if I gave the rock to Bard you’d give him some of the treasure to get it back. It can be my share; I don’t need any treasure. If Bard had some treasure he and the elves would leave and we’d all be safe.”

The fog that had been weighing on Thorin’s mind since the moment he’d laid eyes on the treasury of Erebor began to lift. He blinked. Everyone had returned, whole and healthy, from Lake-Town and he had never been so happy to see his nephews. Then Thorin saw the stricken remorse in Bilbo’s eyes and was suddenly – horrifically – aware of what he’d nearly done to Bilbo. The shame! The foul dishonor of attacking someone so defenseless was nearly crushing! Thorin couldn’t have despised himself more if he’d attacked his own nephews. What a weak, worthless dwarf he was!

Thorin got to his feet – no easy task after a blow from Dori – and went to the edge of the wall and looked down at the land surrounding Erebor and the humans and elves who threatened them. He looked back at his people, tired and worried and waiting for his word. Fili and Kili, thankfully fully healed, stared at Thorin in shock. “Forgive me. I am not in my right mind. I never wanted to hurt you, Bilbo. It will not be repeated.” He would throw himself from the top of Erebor before that would happen!

Again, Dori was by Thorin’s side. He snarled, “I know what this is.”

“And it will not happen, again.” Thorin grabbed Dori’s arm and gave it a squeeze. “Believe me. I know the sickness that took my grandfather and now that I recognize it, I will not be defeated by it!”

Thorin fought the sickness of his mind that made him hunger for the gold in the treasury and the sharp glitter of the Arkenstone. For several days he struggled, keeping away from the Treasury and keeping himself occupied with anything that would keep his mind away from the Arkenstone.

“I can’t bear to have Fili and Kili look at me like that, again,” Thorin confessed to Dwalin when Dwalin found him busying himself with cleaning what had once been the royal apartments. “I never want to see that disappointed look on their faces for as long as I live. And Dori… he may not forgive me for this. How can I live without him?”

“You’ll live with him or without,” Dwalin replied in his quiet, sensible manner. “You be the best you can and the rest is his choice.” Dwalin looked Thorin up and down, taking in his dusty clothes and the mop in his hand. “You were never one for cleaning, before.”

“It gives Bilbo much comfort. I thought I might try it.”

Dwalin accepted the explanation without further question, though Thorin was reasonably certain that he could expect teasing in the future, after all the commotion settled down. Dwalin said, “You’re still not going to talk to them? Bard and the elf still have their people camped outside.”

“No, I will not give up what we fought for.” Thorin set his mop in a corner and went to a large bed in the middle of the room. He took hold of one end of the bed. “Lend a hand.” Together, they shifted the bed to one side of the room so Thorin could clean under the bed. “Bard I will speak with, but not while Thranduil whispers poison in his ear. It will cost us little to build a new home for the people of Lake-Town, but Thranduil will get no reward for the way he treated my people. If Bard will come to speak with me, alone, I will deal with him.” Thorin paused for a moment. “How is Bilbo? I have not seen him since… the wall.” He couldn’t blame Bilbo for being afraid to go anywhere near him.

“He fares well enough. Worries, though. He worries about most everything, but I caught him looking down at the enemy, chewing away on his thumbnail.”

“Don’t let him chew his nails.”

“You old mother-hen.”

Any friendly fighting that might have begun was stopped when Balin abruptly threw open the door and rushed in. “War!” Balin announced. “There will be war.”

Thorin grew light-headed and, for just a moment, he found himself standing on the battlefield with his father and grandfather and little brother. Thorin had been the only one of his family to return from that battle alive. After a deep, calming breath that brought him back to the present, Thorin said to Balin, “They are trying to break through the doors, then?” He imagined many hundreds of elven warriors swarming the halls of Erebor.

“No.”

Both Thorin and Dwalin, surprised by Balin’s answer, stared at him.

“Orcs,” Balin said. “Gandalf has said there is an army of orcs on the march and they are coming here.”

 

To be continued…


	22. War

Chapter 22: War

Bilbo-

The very moment Balin announced that war was coming to them, the dwarves rushed into action arming themselves and Bilbo felt like he was going to be ill. In one of Erebor’s armories, one of many armories littered throughout the mountain, according to Balin, Bilbo stood in a corner and watched his dwarves hurriedly gather weapons and armor. He had never felt so useless in his life.

“Hey, now,” Bofur gave Bilbo a cheery pat on the shoulder. “There’s no reason for that long face. Everything will be alright.”

“I know. I know.” And he did. That didn’t mean that the idea of war, something he’d only experienced in books, didn’t scare him to pieces. “Have you been in a war before?”

Bofur shook his head. “Not unless you count a bar room brawl. This is a first for me.” He didn’t look entirely confidant, though he kept smiling. “Don’t you worry; we’ll keep you safe.” Bofur moved away to find a helmet in the dusty armory.

Dori and Nori had kept their promises and returned everyone to Erebor from Lake Town. Kili’s leg had completely healed, and there had apparently been an orc attack and, according to Kili, a very pretty elf that he was almost certain was female. He had stars in his eyes when he spoke about her. 

Bilbo was ready to fight with his dwarves in the coming battle. He was scared nearly out of his mind, but he would fight. He could do it. Dwalin and Thorin had given him some lessons in using his sword, Sting, during the quest and he’d been watching the others fight with swords for ages. He’d do just fine. Really. His hands were hardly shaking at all.

“Put this on.” Thorin pushed a silvery shirt into Bilbo’s hands. “Right now, put it on and keep it on. It’s the best armor I can give you. You will be staying in the mountain, of course.”

The earlier incident when Thorin had nearly killed Bilbo hadn’t been Thorin’s fault, Bilbo understood that entirely. Dori had been quick to explain to Bilbo after the terrible moment on the high walls when Bilbo had truly feared Thorin would drop him to his death. Dori had explained about a sickness that haunted Thorin’s family and how the Arkenstone seemed to be the catalyst for that sickness. So it wasn’t Thorin’s fault at all and once Bilbo understood what had happened, he had altogether forgiven Thorin and dismissed the incident from his mind.

“Thorin,” Bilbo said, slowly as he gripped the fancy, silvery shirt with both hands. “I’m a grown-up… remember? I told you I am. I don’t know what else I can say to convince you.”

Thorin gave Bilbo’s shoulder a pat. “We’ll talk about that after the battle. Until then, I won’t have you on the battlefield. No matter your age, you aren’t a warrior. Stay where you’re safe and we’ll talk about everything, later.”

So Bilbo was relegated to the back of the armory as everyone around him chose weapons and armor. It was a far cry from the heavy leather and mismatch of armor they’d all worn on the journey. Each dwarf had found and put on real armor, heavy and terrifying. Even Kili, freshly healed from his poisoned wound by Captain Tauriel, was an awful sight.

There was nothing he could do. Nothing he could say that would stop them from charging out onto the battlefield and probably dying. Bilbo didn’t care how many elves and men were out there, orcs were terrible and his dwarves were going to die and he couldn’t think of a darn thing to stop them.

‘My family.’ The thought sounded loud and clear in Bilbo’s head. ‘They’re going to die. They’re going to die.’ He remembered his father’s slow, lingering death and the sudden death of his mother. ‘I can’t. I can’t do this, again. They’re my family. Mine!’

“Thorin’s right; it’s best you stay here.” Nori said, matter-of-factly as he took up a pike to use as his weapon. “I can’t protect you in the middle of a battle.”

“I’m not asking you to protect me,” Bilbo told him, sternly. “I never asked you to. I’ve lived through giants and orcs and goblins and trolls – I can take care of myself.”

“Not in battle.” Thorin was suddenly with them. “You are brave, but you are untrained. You have survived this quest by little more than good fortune. A battlefield is far different than anything you’ve faced so far. You must stay where you are safe.”

“You could all be killed!” Bilbo looked desperately around at his dwarves, his hands balling into fists at his sides. Fili and Kili, naturally, stood side-by-side, helping each other to fasten on their armor. Bombur speaking softly and gently to Bofur and Bifur. Gloin and Oin said nothing to one another, but stood so close that their arms touched. Dori hugged his brothers, but didn’t seem at all tense, as if the coming battle were something he was well-prepared for. Neither Dori nor his little brothers wore any armor at all and had outright refused any when Bilbo had all but begged them to put something protective on. “You could all die.” He looked, finally, up at Thorin. “Don’t leave me behind. Please.”

There was no way that Bilbo was being left behind. Whether or not Thorin agreed didn’t matter. He wasn’t going to be left alone while his dwarves went off to face certain death. They needed him.

There was a terrible pain in Thorin’s eyes. “Bilbo, you aren’t being left behind, but are you aren’t trained for war. It will be safer, for all of us, if you stay here.” He paused then reached out as if he would put a hand on Bilbo’s shoulder, but he stopped. Thorin let his hand fall back to his side. “I want to tell you how sorry I am. I… I almost killed you. If Dori hadn’t come back when he did… I never wanted to hurt you. To threaten you as I did… I am nothing but a foul rat.”

Without much thought at all, Bilbo waved a hand at Thorin. “Don’t say that! It wasn’t you, not really. I don’t blame you at all.” Bilbo wrung his hands together. He had been terrified at the time, but in hindsight, he knew that Thorin hadn’t wanted to do it. “I can help you.” He took a deep breath and did something he really didn’t want to do. He raised his voice and announced to all, “I’m not a child; I’m an adult. You must believe me.”

All Bilbo’s dwarves froze in various states of getting ready for battle. They stared at him, stunned.

They were going to hate him, Bilbo was sure. His hands were shaking. He could hear his heart racing and wrapped his arms around himself. “Hobbits mature at thirty-three and I have been adult for a good number of years, now.” They would think he’d deliberately tricked them and they’d want nothing more to do with him. “So, you see, there’s no reason to leave me behind. I can fight with you. I want to help.” His voice had grown steadily weaker as he spoke until it had faded to a whisper.

Thorin was grimmer than ever. 

“Please,” Bilbo continued. “I’m sorry about everything. I really am, but I can help.”

Dori, with his eyes so concerned that Bilbo felt a pang of guilt that he’d caused it, said, “An adult… not a… oh, dear.”

“Dori… I’m sorry.”

Dori looked as if he would hug Bilbo, but hesitated before he put his arms back down at his side. Bilbo felt a stab of pain at the lost hug. Dori took a deep breath. “Bilbo, dear, Thorin’s right. You aren’t trained and you’ll be a danger to everyone out there, because we’ll be trying to look out for you.”

“I can look after myself. I told you- ”

“You’re an adult. Yes.” Dori nodded, slowly. “I’m sorry if we… well… jumped to a conclusion, but we’d still try to protect you out there. Whether you’re an adult or not really doesn’t change anything.”

Bilbo’s breath left him for a moment and he could do nothing but stare at Dori’s round, gentle face. He looked at Thorin, as grim and foreboding as always, who didn’t disagree with Dori. Slowly, Bilbo looked around to his other friends – lovely Bombur, who had been so kind about Bilbo’s silly little crush, Bofur, who taught Bilbo everything he could and had planned to make it official training, Balin who was always ready with a story, and everyone else. It was true. It didn’t matter to them. They didn’t care how old he was.

“It doesn’t change anything?” Bilbo licked his suddenly dry lips. “So,” his voice was weak when he managed to speak. “So that means… I can still stay?”

Thorin opened his mouth, but before he could say a single word, Dwalin, already kitted out in armor and weaponry, ran into the armory. “We have to go – NOW! The battle comes to our gate.”

And that was it. They all ran out, leaving Bilbo behind.

“What?” The word echoed in the vast armory. The silver shirt was cool in Bilbo’s hands. Bilbo gave himself a little shake and slipped the shirt on. “What… no. No!” Bilbo opened his hand and looked down at the simple gold ring on his palm. He wouldn’t let go of them so easily, not when his precious ring was ready to help.

‘I will not be alone, again.’ The years of living alone in his home came back to him like a hammer to the forehead. The endless drifting that came from having no one was just as painful as it had been that first night after his father had died. Bilbo slipped on his ring and felt himself fade into the shadowy world that the ring always brought him to. To all others, he was invisible. The bell Nori had given him jangled, but Bilbo barely heard it in his desperation to get to his dwarves and ignored it completely. Bilbo clutched one hand around his Sting and ran after his dwarves. ‘I want my family!’

The battlefield was a nightmare of death and terror. The moment Bilbo rushed out the gates of Erebor, he froze in mid-step and could do nothing but stare around him in pure, unadulterated horror. Orcs, humans, elves, eagles, and his dwarves all fought and the hard ring of metal against metal joined the sounds of screams so full of pain and fear that Bilbo wanted to put his hands over his ears.

Bilbo's dwarves were sensible enough to stay reasonably close together. Gloin and Oin fought side-by-side and fiercely cut down each orc that dared to face them. Bilbo felt his first breath of hope at the sight. Dwalin was as fierce as Bilbo had always thought he would be and Balin… Balin was magnificent! He fought as easily as his younger brother and, together, they worked to cut down every orc that came within range of their blades. Bilbo suddenly saw what Fili and Kili would be like in fifty years time. The two boys did fight side-by-side, though Ori, with a war hammer rather than his favored slingshot, stayed close by Kili’s side. Much to Bilbo’s surprise, the elf lady, Captain Tauriel, fought with them. With her long reach and a sword in each hand, she worked tirelessly to guard the backs of the three young dwarves. Bofur, it seemed, was no fighter. He was also no coward and didn’t shy away from the enemy, but fighting wasn’t in his nature. Bombur and Bifur stayed close by Bofur. Dori and Thorin were together. Of course they were together. In his time with the company, Bilbo had begun to consider them a set – like a matched set of salt and pepper shakers. They belonged together. Thorin was a brutal warrior and killed all those in his path without hesitation or mercy. Dori was… something else. Bilbo could hardly describe his fighting. He was elegant. He used not only his short sword, but would also lash out with kicks and punches. He made incredible leaps and dodges that seemed almost impossible and moved so quickly that Bilbo could hardly believe it. Nori, who fought nearby, wasn’t as good as Dori, but he was very impressive.

Bilbo began to get an idea about what it truly meant to be a Dark Hands and, by gum, didn’t it make his admiration for Dori swell up like a watermelon!

Ori had dropped his slingshot. Of course, Ori’s favored weapon was very little good in a battle, but Bilbo scooped it up before it could be stepped on and broken. Ori would want it back when the battle was over. Because Ori was going to be alright. They would all be just fine because they were Bilbo’s dwarves and he would make sure they survived… somehow.

Bilbo swallowed hard as he turned to look all around him. War was completely different than the battles they’d faced along the journey. The air smelled like blood and Bilbo thought he might be ill. The whole thing was nothing short of a living nightmare. Bodies of the dead and wounded were scattered across the dusty battlefield like dandelions on a lawn.

The battle raged and all fought against the terrible might of the orcs. The orc army was like a flood. There were thousands of them and no matter how hard the dwarves and elves and humans and eagles fought, the orcs seemed to keeping coming and coming, an endless tide. Bilbo unsheathed Sting and held his little sword at the ready, but his dwarves didn’t seem to need his help. They were quick as lightening and savage as an angry bear. There was no mercy for any enemy. 

Bilbo happened to spy Bard fighting not too far off and despaired. Bard was surrounded by orcs. His sword was a relic, rusty with age. Bilbo’s dwarves had noticed Bard, too. It was Bifur who acted first, inching away from their group towards Bard. Bifur couldn’t make it far, however, as the orcs surrounding them were too intent on keeping them isolated. Then Bifur shouted something and the rest of the dwarves took note of Bard.

Thorin yelled for Dwalin to help Bifur get to Bard, but before anyone could move, who should arrive but King Thranduil. He arrived on his magnificent stag, riding sure and easy as befitting a person who’d been riding for centuries. King Thranduil killed several orcs, giving Bard room to breathe. Even in the stress of the battle, it was impossible to miss Bard’s reaction to King Thranduil riding onto the battlefield on his immense stag and dressed in all his finery which included his ornate crown. Bard went very red in the face and scowled blackly.

Even as he fought, Bard bitterly shouted, “Go fight somewhere else, Your Majesty!” Bard cut down the orc in front of him. 

“I didn’t want you to find out like that,” King Thranduil replied. He gracefully slipped off the back of his stag and moved close to Bard to defend his friend’s back. 

“Well, I did! At a war meeting a wizard called me to I found out my friend is a king! Surprise!” He killed another orc. “Anything else you think you ought to tell me, Your Majesty?”

Thranduil visibly flinched. “I value our friendship and didn’t want you to treat me differently because of my crown. Can’t this wait until after the battle?” He swung his sword and decapitated an orc who came too close.

“You and I are going to have a long, long talk when this is done!”

Bilbo refocused on his dwarves as Bard and King Thranduil moved away. Unfortunately, when Bilbo refocused on his dwarves, he was instantly horrified to find that they were no longer in the tidy little group he’d left them in. They had all begun to spread out. Thorin fought a good fifty paces away and Bilbo couldn’t even see Fili or Kili. Bilbo’s grip on Sting tightened.

“Blasted dwarves! They never stay where you put them!”

Bilbo spotted Ori and, not too far from him, Captain Tauriel. In a split instant, his relief morphed into panic when he didn’t see Fili or Kili. Bilbo felt the breath in his chest freeze. He couldn’t breathe. Bilbo spun in a complete circle, trying to catch a glimpse of them, but everyone was so much bigger than he was that seeing more than four feet away was almost impossible. Then he looked up.

Far off, high above the battlefield, Fili and Kili faced off against an orc. It was a terrible, savage thing and, next to them, it looked like a giant. It wasn’t going well. Even at a distance, Bilbo could see the boys were wounded and tiring. They fought on, regardless.

They were going to die.

Bilbo realized that truth the moment he saw Fili stumble on the cliff. Fili righted himself at once to keep up with the fight, but Bilbo just knew that it was the end for those boys if they didn’t get some help and there was no one even close to them.

Ori, not too far from Bilbo, apparently just saw Kili and his shout was easily heard over the battle. He began to make his way to Kili. Captain Tauriel looked in the direction Ori was headed and she, too, started for the cliff. 

There was no time.

They were too far away.

Bilbo took Ori’s slingshot from his belt and scooped a stone off the ground. He took aim, pulled the sling back as far as he could. He remembered one of his mother’s infrequent visits home when she’d taught him to aim an arrow at a small pumpkin set up as a target. Her hand had been warm on his. His breathing calmed. Bilbo released and the rock in the slingshot went flying. It hit true, right on the orc’s eye just as Bilbo had planned. It howled and grabbed at its blinded eye with one hand. Bilbo reloaded the slingshot and took aim, again. He remembered his stern father, always expecting the best from Bilbo in every situation, and never accepting failure. Bilbo let loose the rock and he did not fail. The orc’s other eye was put out. Blinded, the orc howled and stumbled before Ori and Captain Tauriel reached them.

‘Please let them be alright,’ Bilbo desperately thought. ‘Please don’t let those boys be dead.’

It was only chance that he turned and saw Thorin battling his own orc. Their fight led them to the frozen river.

Where was Dori? Dori protected Thorin from every threat, loved him so deeply that he would never allow Thorin to get hurt. Where was Dori?

It was an advantage of being small that Bilbo could slip though the battle with relative ease and in moments he was closing in on Thorin and the orc. Unlike Fili and Kili’s battle, Thorin’s seemed more of an even match. Thorin fought with every ounce of strength and experience he had, and his sword came close time and time again to ending the orc. But the orc was no feeble weakling. It gave as good as it took and soon they were both injured and bleeding and panting for breath.

And there was Dori, a great gnash down the side of his face and his short, terrible sword held tightly in both hands. While Thorin fought, Dori had managed to creep up behind the orc and with one mighty swing of his sword, he slashed cleanly through the orc’s leg deeply enough that blood spurted out and it cried out with pain and anger. The orc spun around with surprising speed and struck Dori with the flat of its blade, sending him flying away only to land in a heap on the ground. Thorin used the distraction to slip in close enough and impale the orc with his own blade. But the orc was strong and fast and even such terrible wounds didn’t seem to slow it much. It fell forwards and dragged Thorin to the ground, nearly crushing him, and its sword was at Thorin’s throat.

Bilbo was close, by then.

A half a dozen steps was all it took for Bilbo to reach the fighting pair. He had Sting gripped with both hands and jabbed. Easily – almost too easily – Sting’s blade slice into the throat of the orc and out the other side. There was a pained, unnatural sound as it gurgled for breath. Blood spurted around Sting and splattered on Bilbo before it fell still and silent – dead.

Thorin had to shove the orc off him and, after he did, he blinked down at his felled enemy, almost comically taken-aback. His face quickly settled back into its customary scowl. “Bilbo! I know you’re out here. Get back in the mountain!”

“And leave you all out here to get yourselves killed?!” Bilbo shouted. “I don’t think - ” His words were abruptly cut off when a rock flew up into the air, undoubtedly kicked by the nearby fighters, and struck Bilbo square in the middle of the forehead. His vision went white, then dark.

…  
…

Bilbo woke in the dark. He saw the moon over head. The noise of the battle had changed into the softer sounds of pained wounded and terrible silence. Dusk had dimmed the world, but not so much that Bilbo couldn’t see the bodies around him. The air reeked of blood and smoke. Where Bilbo’s skin touched the ground - his bare feet and hands- was uncomfortable. It was a different sort of discomfort than what he’d felt in Mirkwood, but the battlefield still felt wrong. As if someone had wounded the earth and it needed time to heal from the spilled blood.

Bilbo groaned and heaved himself to sit up just in time for someone to trip over his outstretched legs. There was an ‘umph’ when the person hit the ground and Bilbo finally woke up enough to realize that it was Balin who had tripped over him.

“Bilbo?” Balin called out. “I heard your bell. Where are you?”

“Oh!” Bilbo gasped and got to his feet. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Balin. Let me help.” He didn’t remember that he was still wearing his useful little ring until Balin started when Bilbo’s hand landed on his arm. Bilbo yanked off the ring and stuffed it in his pocket.

Balin looked tired. There were drops of blood in his fine, white beard. Balin smiled at Bilbo. “That’s a handy little ring you have, but just keep it put away for a while. You’ll give this poor, old dwarf heart failure one of these days.” He looked Bilbo up and down and clucked disapprovingly at Bilbo’s sore head. “That’s a mighty fine lump on your forehead. Let’s get you off to the healing tents, my lad.”

Bilbo was uncomfortable with touching. He’d told Balin that long ago in a human village when another dwarf had gotten handsy. As he’d never had much of it, he was never quite sure how to react to touch or if he was doing it right. But as Bilbo looked up at Balin’s face, dirty and bruised, but as gentle as ever, he found that he simply didn’t care. He had once thought that Balin would give mighty fine hugs and had wanted one. So… Bilbo hugged him. Neither of them spoke, but Balin was quick to return the hug and they stayed like that for a moment. When Bilbo finally released Balin, Balin looked suspiciously close to tears.

“Are you hurt, Bilbo?”

Bilbo shook his head and looked around at the aftermath of the war. “I don’t understand.” There were bodies everywhere. Dead. There were dead people all around – dwarves, humans, elves, and orcs. So many lives violently taken away. “I just don’t understand war.”

Balin put an arm around Bilbo. “I wish I had a good answer for you. Let’s get to the healing tent. Everyone will be pleased to see you.”

Balin was as strong and steady as ever and Bilbo was grateful to be able to lean on him. 

“Tent?” Bilbo stared at an elf as they walked by. He was filthy and clearly exhausted. He stared down at his bloody hands, silent and lost in his thoughts. Balin gave Bilbo a gentle tug to keep him moving. “What tent? Healing?” His mind seemed to be as slow as molasses running uphill.

“One of the healing tents. I’ve got everyone bunked up together. We just needed you. Nori’s been half out of his mind looking for you. Bofur and Bifur hunted for you for hours before Bombur made them come back and rest. Dori… well he’s beside himself with worry. And Thorin… well.”

They passed Bard and King Thraduil sitting together. Tears ran unchecked down Bard’s face. “My children are safe, aren’t they?”

“Very safe.” King Thraduil put a hand on Bard’s shoulder. “They are in the deepest part of the Greenwood surrounded by excellent warriors who will protect them any harm. They are safe. You are safe. The war is over.”

Bard looked around, haunted. “I never imagined it would be like this.”

King Thranduil looked sad. “I sometimes forget how young you are.”

Bilbo and Balin passed by and kept walking until they reached one of the largest of the healing tents.

The healing tent was grim. Only Thorin's companions occupied the tent and, at the center of the tent, lay Thorin on a cot with Dori at his side. Everyone had survived the battle, but not unscathed. There were bandaged wounds and bloodied clothes and fearsomely dark bruises. The moment Bilbo stepped into the tent, he was grabbed Bofur. Kind, easy-going Bofur held onto Bilbo’s arms so tightly that Bilbo knew he’d have bruises, but, as Bofur wordlessly looked him up and down before he pulled Bilbo in for a tight embrace, Bilbo didn’t mind a bit. It was only concern. Without words, Bofur led Bilbo over to Bifur who gave Bilbo a similar treatment of examining him closely then giving him a hug before passing him to the next dwarf. Bilbo went around the room like that until he’d been seen by all the dwarves. Only Thorin, who was unconscious, and Dori, who was so intensely focused on Thorin that he hadn't even looked up when Bilbo had come in, hadn't greeted Bilbo. Dwalin, surprisingly gently, nudged Bilbo close to Dori.

“Dori,” Dwalin said. “Someone you’ve been waiting for.”

Dori turned his head slowly away from Thorin and, upon seeing Bilbo, his eyes lit up like torches in the night. He was on his feet and fairly yanked Bilbo to him in a fierce hug. If Dori had been just a little less careful, he might have crushed Bilbo. “Oh, my boy!” Dori cried out. “We’ve been searching everywhere for you! I thought you were dead I thought those beasts had ripped you apart. When Nori went back into the mountain and couldn’t find you he almost had a breakdown. Are you sure you’re not hurt? You look pale. You might be bleeding and not realize it. Turn around – let me see you. Anything hurt inside? Does your head hurt? Are you dizzy? Sit down. Rest. You need food.” Dori’s worried ramble didn’t ease until Bilbo did sit and Gloin gave him a chunk of hard cheese. “I’m so happy to see you. We all are.” Dori reached up one hand and set it on the back of Bilbo’s neck. With a little pull, Dori pulled Bilbo close and touched his forehead to Bilbo’s – a gentle version of the dwarves knocking-heads.

“I’m going to go find Nori,” Bofur spoke up, no louder than a whisper. “He’s been searching for hours.” As he walked by Bilbo, he gave Bilbo a smile. “Good to have you back, lad.”

It was only moments later when Bofur brought Nori back, an arm wrapped over Nori’s shoulder and holding him tight to his side. They whispered together as they walked until Nori saw Bilbo and then he broke away from Bofur. He ran at Bilbo and skid to a stop right in front of Bilbo. “I’m going to put a leash on you! You’re going to drive me mad. You can’t keep doing this. If you died in battle when I was right there and I couldn’t protect you… like Frerin… it would end me. Please, Bilbo, don’t…” When it seemed that Nori was on the verge of tears, he choked and looked away from Bilbo.

“Sorry, Nori.” Bilbo didn’t hesitate to hug Nori. It was a time for hugs, it seemed. He’d had more hugs with his dwarves than he’d had in the rest of his life. Bilbo hugged Nori and let Nori hug him back until Nori had calmed himself enough to pull away.

Nori sat by Bilbo’s side and flicked the bell still hanging around Bilbo’s wrists with a finger. “I need to get you a bigger bell.”

It was just at that moment that the flap of the tent was flung aside and two dwarves Bilbo’s didn’t know walked in with, surprisingly, Captain Tauriel. Nori was quick to whisper to Bilbo that one of them was Dain, a cousin of Thorin’s.

Oin, who had been laying on a blanket on the ground, was alert the moment their visitors walked in. He was alert and clearly unhappy. A glance around the tent showed that he wasn’t the only one. The tension grew to an almost smothering level.

“Forgive me.” Captain Tauriel, stooping slightly as she was too tall to stand upright in the tent, addressed the group. “I couldn’t convince any of King Thranduil's healers come here.” She looked around at Bilbo’s dwarves before she made her way to where Fili and Kili lay on cots of their own and sat on the dirt floor between their cots. “This one,” She gestured at Dain. “Offered his healer.”

“No fault of yours,” Oin grumbled from where he lay. “I can’t do much of anything with my head rattled.” Indeed, he wore a wide bandage around his head, stained with blood. “I can’t even stand without getting dizzy.” He gave the other healer an unimpressed frown. “Get on with it. I’ll be watching.”

As ordered, the other healer made a quick circuit around the tent and did a quick check on everyone until he reached Thorin and took his time to check more carefully.

Dain seemed to think very well of how the battle turned out and was pleased to let everyone know. “A great and glorious day for all dwarves!” Dain pronounced, rather grandly. “We have fought with honor and skill and have won the day!” He laughed uproariously even as he strolled across the tent to look at Thorin and then Fili and Kili.

Bilbo wanted to kick Dain in the kneecap. His dwarves were not some kind of amusement to be gawked at and the day was neither great nor glorious. His dwarves were hurt and that meant it was a horrible day. He couldn’t even count how many people had died. The people of Lake-Town had lost their home. Bilbo wasn’t a violent person by any means, but he found his hand inching towards Sting.

“No,” Dori put a steady hand on Bilbo’s arm, stopping him. “Let Balin handle this.”

Then Bofur sat on Nori’s other side and gave Bilbo a friendly wink as if to say, ‘You’ll like what happens next.’

Bilbo did like it.

Balin seemed to suddenly take over the room when he moved to stand in front of Dain. “Welcome, cousin. I must confess – I didn’t expect a visit. How kind of you to lend us your healer. I feel certain Thorin will appreciate the gesture when he wakes. He has always recognized the loyalty of family and valued it above all other treasures. To know that you came here to aid us in our struggle without any thought of gain for yourself – he will be overcome with joy.”

Dain turned red and Bilbo remembered that Dain had refused any help to Thorin before the quest had begun, hadn’t even given them any supplies. However, now that Thorin had won back the mountain filled with treasure…

Balin raised an eyebrow. “You DID come here out of the goodness of your heart and not greed… didn’t you?”

Dori left Bilbo’s side and purposefully went to stand at Thorin’s bedside, putting himself directly between Thorin and Dain. Ori let out a little growl where he stood near Kili. To Bilbo’s surprise, Captain Tauriel perched on the end of Fili’s cot. Fili looked surprised, as well. All the while, Dwalin and Gloin paced the tent restlessly, glaringly ominously at both Dain and the healer. 

Dain cleared his throat a little. “Of course, of course. I had my forces on the move as soon as I heard there was trouble. However,” he glanced quickly at Thorin’s still form before he looked back at Balin. “I think we should talk about what might happen if the worst comes to pass and Thorin doesn’t wake. As I am Thorin’s cousin…”

“I, too, am Thorin’s cousin,” Balin interrupted, sharply. “As is Dwalin, Gloin, Oin, and he has a sister and two nephews, both of whom he has formally declared to be his heirs. Do you claim more right to Thorin’s throne than any of us? Or do you claim that right with your army rather than your blood?”

Dain flushed darkly. “Now see here-“

“I’m joking, naturally.” Balin kept talking as if Dain hadn’t said a word. “We all know that you would never do something so low as to plot to take Thorin’s crown, especially while he’s still alive. After all, Thorin has survived having his home and birthright stolen from him. He survived the cruelty of having so many of his own kin turn their back on him. He survived many years of backbreaking work to support people who desperately needed him. He survived a quest most called hopeless where he faced trolls, orcs, elves, hunger, a dragon, and a war. No one, certainly not his own cousin, would rob him of the home and safety he has fought so hard for - a home not just for him, but for the women and children who have followed him for years when no one else would show them mercy. ”

Fili narrowed his eyes at Dain. “If something unfortunate should happen to Thorin, I will be King of Erebor.”

“Of course you will, Fili.” Balin’s gentle smile couldn’t have been less threatening, though when he turned to Dain, Bilbo definitely saw Dain shrink a little. “No one would be malicious enough to keep a grieving boy from his inheritance. Why, the entire dwarven civilization couldn’t help but see such a move as anything but the despicable act of a greedy, grasping, dishonorable cur.” Balin met Dain’s eyes, steady and confidant. “I am certain his name would be forever remembered as an opportunistic, back-stabbing rat who would prey upon his own family.”

“I would make sure that his named was remembered in such a way,” Dori said with deceptive mildness. “All it takes is a whisper here or there and a person’s reputation is set.”

“That’s true enough,” Nori added. “I know certain people who can, and will, spread any word I want them to. Inside a month, I can destroy a good name and make sure that not only my target will be ruined, but his family name will be forever despised.”

Dain had gone quite pale. “I can assure you I would never do anything to harm Thorin.”

“Of course not.” Balin gave an affable smile. “You are not deceitful or greedy and your honor is without question. You would never do such a thing to your own cousin.”

“Certainly I wouldn’t!” Dain brought himself back up to his usual bravado at once. “In fact, with the battle over, I will put my people at the disposal of Erebor and keep it safe until Erebor is able to defend herself.”

“Thank you,” Fili spoke before Balin could. Fili gave Dain a decidedly regal nod which surprised Bilbo. He could hardly believe it was the same young dwarf who had, not too long ago, entertained himself by dropping caterpillars into his brother’s hair. Fili straightened his back. “You’ll have to pardon us. Everyone’s tired and I’m sure you want to see to your own people.” It was a polite dismissal, but a dismissal all the same. “Your healer must be done, I think.”

“I am.” The nameless healer put his things back into his bag and addressed Fili, as was only proper. “Thorin-”

“Prince Thorin!” Bilbo spoke before anyone else could and he glared at the healer. “He’s Prince Thorin!”

The healer gave Bilbo a look of utter distain, but Bilbo didn’t care. He truly didn’t.

Dori did care. “Say your piece and get out,” Dori said as he made a show of fixing his distinctive braids. It seemed to do the trick as the healer paled and apologized to Bilbo. Dori wasn’t much appeased and went to stand next to Bilbo, all protective and overbearing. “When will Thorin wake up?”

The healer shrugged. “I can’t give a time for that. His heart is strong and his breathing easy. He needs time. There’s nothing more to do than keep him comfortable and wait.” 

The healer and Dain left, then.

Dori and Bilbo sat together at the edge of the tent. “So,” Dori said, after a time. “You really are an adult, huh?”

Bilbo cringed a little. “… yes. Sorry.”

“No sense apologizing for something like that. I think we all had a rather impressive misunderstanding.” Dori spoke softly, as if he feared disturbing the peace of the tent. They could hear sounds outside the tent, but somehow it seemed as if inside the tent was a whole separate world from what was outside. “I’m going to make Tauriel into Fili’s Dark Hands.” Even at Dori’s near whisper, Captain Tauriel clearly heard as she looked at Dori sharply with a puzzled expression, before she turned her attention back to Fili and Kili. “Yes,” Dori continued with a little smile. “I know you can hear me; elvish hearing is remarkable. She’ll be an excellent Dark Hands, once trained,” Dori continued to Bilbo. “I have been looking for someone for Fili for simply ages and she’s just about perfect. Strong, fast, intelligent. She has all the right qualities and while it is customary to begin training in childhood, she is very young for an elf, so I’m sure it will all work out.”

“What if she doesn’t want to be a Dark Hands?”

That made Dori smirk. “And pass up a legitimate reason to stay in the mountain, near Kili? No, I don’t think she’ll do that. I think she’ll work very hard to prove she belongs with us.”

Near the princes, Captain Tauriel blushed and wouldn’t look at Dori.

While Bilbo pondered and worried and started to chew on his thumbnail he absently set Sting on his lap and grimaced at the orc blood on it. He looked around for a cloth to clean it with, but there was nothing but bandages and he couldn’t use those for cleaning. He reached into his pockets and, to his surprise, found something. He was stunned when he pulled out the handkerchief Dis had given him so long ago when they’d said farewell back in the Shire. He stared at it for a time, pristine white with brilliantly colored flowers stitched into it. How it had stayed clean so long, he had no idea.

“How are you holding up?” Dori asked.

“Fine. Just fine.” Bilbo ran a finger over Dis’ fine embroidery. “Dori, do you think I might be able to find a needle and thread?” The first family quilt he’d started had been lost. It was time to start a new one and Dis’ gift would be a fine first square on the quilt. “Do I even belong in the mountain?” Bilbo asked, softly. “I don’t think I can do much for all of you.”

“We don’t want you there because of something you can do,” Gloin spoke up. “We want you with us because… we… well. We just want you with us. It’s not complicated.”

“What do you mean you can’t do much?” Bofur asked. “I don’t think the spiders would agree with you. And who said you had to be useful? We’ll have the little children arriving soon enough – Bombur’s little ones and Gloin’s Gimli and the others – and those little mites won’t be able to do much, but we still want them here.”

“But I’m not a child!”

“Noisy.” Thorin’s voice drew everyone’s attention and Bilbo was elated to look over and see Thorin, pale and exhausted, but awake. Thorin slowly blinked and looked around as everyone got to their feet and rushed to be near him. Even Oin, with a little help, managed to get up to see Thorin. There were cries of happiness and Dori, forgetting all propriety, threw his arms around Thorin and kissed his cheek. There was shouting and relieved laughter and it seemed as the dark atmosphere in the tent suddenly evaporated. When the voices faded down, Thorin grumbled, “What’s happening…?”

Bofur, as tactful as ever, piped up, “We were all just trying to convince our Bilbo that we don’t mind he’s not a child. Although he was a very adorable child.”

For some reason, it made Bilbo want to cry. “I’m sorry,” Bilbo breathed out the words. His hands were shaking. “I’m so sorry. Honestly, I didn’t realize the mistake. I thought… I really thought… you were all just being very kind. I didn’t mean to keep the truth from you, but… but it felt nice. It’s been so long since I haven’t felt lonely and I wanted it to last as long as possible. I’m so, so sorry. Please, don’t send me away.” As he spoke, Bilbo’s voice grew smaller and smaller.

“Send you away?” With a severe grunt of pain that had Thorin waving away the help of Dwalin and Dori, Thorin sat up on his sick-bed. “I would never send you away.” Thorin let out an aggrieved sigh. “This is all my fault. I am dim-witted. Bilbo, I’m sorry I didn’t believe you before. You told me, and I didn’t want to see the truth anymore than I wanted to believe that the Arkenstone was poisoning me as surely as it had poisoned my grandfather. Can you forgive me? I tried to kill you. I didn’t listen when you told me the truth and, because I didn’t, I subjected you to discomfort. I can only hope I didn’t shame you too badly.”

“No!” Bilbo nearly shouted. “No discomfort. No shame at all. Thorin, please, you have to understand - my parents loved me dearly and I loved them. There is not a single member of my family back in the Shire who would ever hurt me, but I have never really felt close to anyone. I have been so happy on this quest. I don’t even have words to tell you how happy I’ve been. I… I loved it.” His voice fell back to a whisper, suddenly shy and uncertain. “I truly loved how you all treated me and I would die before I would give up a single memory of this quest, dragon and orcs included.”

Thorin was quiet for a moment, seeming to think long and hard on what Bilbo had said. “Well, as you don’t want to be sent away, will you stay with us?” There was a tiny note of hope in Thorin’s voice.

Dori smiled and said, “Child or adult, we would love to have you here as a part of our family. What do you say?”

“Yes.” Bilbo nearly sobbed. His voice was no louder than a whisper. “Please… yes.” He did let loose a few tears when Dori put an arm around him and pulled Bilbo to his side. He tried so hard not to cry, but it was no use.

 

To be continued…


	23. Uncle Bilbo

Chapter 23 – Uncle Bilbo

 

Frodo Baggins had been orphaned at the tender age of twelve and missed his parents terribly. Yes, he’d been given a place at his grandparent’s home, Brandy Hall, but it wasn’t the same as having a real home. He found that he was often lonely, despite all the relatives that were suddenly everywhere. There were times that he could go for days without being noticed. His grandparents and the rest of his family loved him, he knew that without a doubt, but Brandy Hall always seemed to be very loud and everyone was always so busy that sometimes it seemed he just… slipped through the cracks.

Because Frodo went unnoticed so often, he frequently heard or saw things he wasn’t, strictly speaking, meant to. That was how, one very late night, he’d ended up sitting on the floor of the main pantry of Brandy Hall, a cookie in each hand, and learned that Uncle Bilbo was coming home.

“Come in and sit, Master Gimli.” Frodo clearly heard his grandma’s voice just after he heard the door of the kitchen where the pantry was located open. “You’ve had a long journey and it’s late.”

“Thank you, missus,” a stranger’s voice replied. “I wouldn’t have bothered you so late, but the princess thought you’d want to know right away.”

Frodo knew that his suddenly disrespectable Uncle Bilbo had taken off on an adventure some months earlier. He also knew that there had been a big uproar when Uncle Bilbo had, upon his disappearance, lent Bag End to a group of dwarves. Frodo had even caught glimpses of the dwarves from time to time, though they normally stayed close to Hobbiton and rarely ventured to Brandy Hall. How strange it had been to see people with hair all over their faces and heavy, leather boots.

Frodo’s grandpa said, “So, you’ve delivered the news – happy news, indeed! – but how long until they get here? Everyone will be overjoyed to see our Bilbo, again.”

At the mention of his cousin, Frodo perked up and focused on the conversation just outside the pantry door. He took another bite of cookie. It was late, well after he was meant to be sleeping, but as no one ever seemed to notice where he was or what he was doing, Frodo often decided his own bedtime. And as he decided his own bedtime, Frodo decided he was quite old enough to listen to grown-up conversations.

“Master Baggins,” the dwarf, Gimli, began. “Has sent word by raven. They are in Bree and will arrive very shortly. He didn’t say when, exactly, but the princess doubts it will be later than tomorrow evening. Some of the women and older children have gone to spread the news to the other families who might be interested – the Baggins’, the Tooks, and the like. As yours is one of the biggest families around, she thought you might want to know. My ma says every hobbit in The Shire will likely know by daybreak.”

Frodo inched the pantry door open and peeked out into the kitchen where he saw his grandparents and a dwarf, sitting comfortably at the kitchen table. Grandma had a cup of tea, while grandpa smoked and the dwarf had a drink of his own. As the hour was so late, the room was mostly dark but for a lantern that sat on the table and gave off a warm, gentle light.

“A raven?” Frodo’s grandma said, raising an eyebrow. “A raven brought the message?”

“Aye, missus,” the dwarf nodded his head. “The raven’s have carried messages for the line of Durin for many generations and are very trusted. My pa says they never miss finding their way. So if the raven says they’re coming, then they’re coming.”

Frodo saw his grandma shake her head, as if she were very tired. She looked at Frodo’s grandpa in a very serious manner. “We’ll have to tell Bilbo about Prim and Drogo.”

At the mention of his dead parents, Frodo felt a sudden stab of pain. He wiped his eyes with the back of one hand and tried to push that pain away. They’d died months ago, but the pain always seemed to be there, just under Frodo’s skin.

Frodo’s grandpa said, with a sigh, “Bilbo won’t take it well. He was so young when his parents died… older than Frodo, but still very young. He won’t take this well at all. I still remember that awful day when his father was laid to rest. Poor lad looked so pale and hardly left Bag End for days afterwards. I went and spoke with Bilbo’s grandfather back then and he’d been so worried. Of course, he didn’t want to make a scene and make the boy feel badly, but he was worried enough that he was at the point of having Bilbo go live with him and his family before Bilbo seemed to get a hold of himself. He bucked right up and got on with life. He was quite settled before the whole adventure thing.”

The dwarf laughed. “Not so sure about that. You should have seen him mouth off to an uppity ranger!”

Grandma spat out her tea.

“He what?” Grandpa leaned forward in his chair. “Bilbo would do no such thing, Master Gimli!”

“Sure he did. He was great!”

Frodo tuned out the rest of the conversation. It was unimportant. What was important was that Uncle Bilbo was coming home. 

After a short time, Frodo’s grandparents offered the dwarf a guest room – an offer that was happily accepted as the hour was so late - and then the lantern was extinguished and all three went to bed. As soon as Frodo was left alone in the silence and the darkness, he crept out of the pantry. He took three more cookies and an apple. As he was often overlooked amongst the great many children of Brandy Hall, Frodo had no fear at all that he would be missed before morning. He left Brandy Hall and started walking. The moon was full and bright; there was plenty of light for him to find his way. It was quite a long walk to Bag End, but the night was cool with an easy breeze. Frodo had walked all night and very early into the morning. Just when he was ready to fall asleep on his feet, he was distracted by the lazy rumble of wagon wheels. He turned and stepped off the road and waited. 

Soon enough a wagon came from around the corner. There was nothing particularly special about the wagon or the shaggy pony that pulled it, but the driver was a dwarf who’d visited with Frodo’s grandparents the previous night. He was dressed in odd clothes, with trousers that went clear down to his feet and a heavy cloak rather than a jacket. His red beard was impressive and he sang in a strange language that Frodo liked, despite having no idea what the song was about.

“Hullo,” the stranger said. He pulled the wagon to a halt when he saw Frodo and smiled down at him. “Bit small for running about on your own, aren’t you?”

Frodo shrugged. He was big enough.

“Where are your folks?”

Again, Frodo shrugged. He didn’t want to answer.

“You live around here?”

No, Frodo shook his head, silently.

The stranger scratched the back of his head. “Well, if you’re not going to talk to me, I don’t know that I can help at all.”

Frodo blinked, then turned and kept walking the direction he’d been going in. He didn’t need help. He knew exactly where he was going. Uncle Bilbo was his favorite person, right after mama and papa. Now, Uncle Bilbo was coming home and Frodo needed a hug. Therefore, Frodo was going to Bad End to wait for him.

“Wait a bit!” The stranger called out. “Just wait!” The stranger jumped off his wagon and hurried over to Frodo. “Look, you’re too little to go around on your own. You’ll get hurt or lost.”

Frodo definitely wasn’t lost. He knew very well that if he stayed right on the road he was on, he would go straight to Bag End. There was no way to get lost. Hurt? There was nothing to get hurt with unless he fell down and scraped his knee. If he did scrape his knee, Frodo was quite grown-up enough not to cry. He was fairly sure about that. 

The stranger went on, “I’m Gimli. Gimli, son of Gloin, at your service.” He gave a quick bow to Frodo. “Won’t you tell me your name, at least?”

Frodo knew very well to be polite, and he rather liked Gimli. His beard was a very pretty red and he had brought the good news of Uncle Bilbo coming home. Yes, Frodo decided that he liked Gimli very much. “Frodo.”

“Well, then, Master Frodo, as you don’t seem to feel like talking to me, maybe you’d come to see my family and you’ll feel like talkin’ with them? What say?”

Frodo shook his head and pointed down the path. He had to get to Bag End – he needed Uncle Bilbo.

Gimli smiled. “We’re going in the same direction, tadpole. I’ll at least give you a lift and when we get to the home you’re headed to, I’ll let you off. How’s that sound?”

It sounded entirely reasonable and Frodo’s feet were tired. So he nodded.

Gimli smiled. “That’s well good. I’ve got some cheese you can have a bite of. Ma wasn’t happy about me going alone, but the princess spoke up for me and convinced ma, so this is my first time out alone and ma sent me with more food than I thought was possible. This whole Hobbiton is fantastic; there’s food everywhere. We should get a move on; ma won’t be happy if I’m late getting back to Bag End.”

Frodo’s eyes flew wide. He dashed to Gimli and threw his arms around him in a warm, impulsive embrace before he scampered to the wagon and climbed up so quickly that he was sitting on the bench before Gimli even turned around to look at him. Frodo grinned happily at Gimli, who laughed and climbed up to sit next to Frodo.

“You’re a dwarf,” Frodo said, quietly. “I’ve heard about you.”

“I am a dwarf and I’m not surprised you’ve heard about us. You hobbits gossip like hens.”

Frodo didn’t know what that meant, but he liked chickens and thought it was funny, so he laughed. 

Moments later, he’d fallen asleep, leaning heavily against Gimli.

“Here now,” Frodo was jostle awake and blinked tiredly. He looked up and found Gimli smiling at him. “We’re here.”

Bag End. It was almost exactly how Frodo remembered it when he’d last gone to visit. Well… it hadn’t been a proper visit. He’d gotten lost one day and ended up in Uncle Bilbo’s back garden. That was the first time he’d met Uncle Bilbo, but they’d had a fine afternoon together while Gaffer Gamgee ran around the town looking for Frodo’s parents. While Uncle Bilbo had looked surprised to find Frodo crying in a patch of daffodils, he hadn’t hesitated to bring Frodo into his home and give him lunch and have him lay down for a nap. Then they read a story and made apple bread. It was a very pleasant afternoon that had only ended when his parents had finally appeared and taken him home.

And then his parents had died when Uncle Bilbo was away. Frodo hadn’t understood why Uncle Bilbo had gone away, but he had heard whispers of adventures, dwarves, and the wizard, Gandalf. It might have been wonderfully exciting if the rumors were about anyone other than Frodo’s favorite uncle. It seemed terribly unfair to Frodo that dwarves – complete strangers – came along to steal Uncle Bilbo away just before Frodo desperately needed him. That had been very unfair of them.

Frodo felt tears threatening, again, but sniffed and tried not to cry. He didn’t want Uncle Bilbo to see him crying… whenever he arrived.

While Bag End seemed much the same as it always had, there were some very slight differences. The dwarves were the biggest difference. There were dwarves all over the place coming and going and one woman standing out by the road, looking east - waiting. The other dwarves would, from time to time, stop what they were doing and look down the road, also, before they went back to their tasks. There were ponies grazing in the back field and a sturdy barn had been built for them. Frodo could hear unfamiliar voices inside Bag End. There was a clothesline of freshly washed laundry drying in the wind and two little children wrestling in the front garden. When they saw Gimli and Frodo, they ran inside. Moments later, a dwarf came outside. She was a good deal bigger than Gimli and had a magnificent beard.

“Well, what is this little treasure you’ve brought home, lad?”

“A guest, I think, Dis. I found him on the way back and I couldn’t just leave him out there. He seemed in a hurry to get here. He can stay, can’t he?”

She smiled gently. “I don’t see why not.” She said to Frodo, “So, dear, what are you doing here?”

Frodo stayed quiet. He looked over the dwarf lady’s head, into the open door of Bag End, but he only saw more dwarves watching them. He swallowed, hard, and felt tears start to make his eyes burn. He wanted Uncle Bilbo. He wanted a hug.

Gimli put an arm around Frodo and gave him a little squeeze. “Aww, don’t cry. He was fine coming over here, honest.”

“I believe you, Gimli. Here.” Dis held out her arms to Frodo. “Why don’t you come down and have a rest with a little snack while we figure out where you belong?” She took Frodo down from the wagon with ease. She was very strong and held him as if he were nothing more than a baby. “Gimli, you’d best go see your ma and let her know what’s going on. Now, Frodo,” she situated him in such a way that he sat on her hip and held onto her neck to keep himself there. “I have two little boys of my own, you know. They are the sweetest, most darling children you could ever meet and, because of them, I know that little boys are always hungry. I think you must want a cookie.”

Frodo shook his head.

“No?”

“Can I have a carrot?” He’d already had cookies, after all.

She blinked in surprise. “A carrot? That’s different. Still, I’m sure we can find- ”

“Raven!” The dwarf lady who’d been watching the road shouted out so suddenly that Frodo jumped in Dis’ arms. “There’s a raven coming!”

The call brought everyone running to the front of Bag End, all women and children dressed in a mix of hobbit and dwarven fashion. Dis’ arms tightened around Frodo. She watched the black bird as it flew nearer and nearer, never taking her eyes off it. Frodo thought she might be holding her breath and, when he looked around, he saw that all the other dwarves were in a similar state but for the two very small children who were excitedly hopping up and down.

Frodo gave Dis a pat on the cheek. “Don’t be scared. It’s only a bird.” He’d chase it off, if she wanted.

But she shook her head. “No. No, dear, it’s not just a bird. That’s good news. Very good news. You’ll meet the rest of our family, soon. They’re coming back… they’re safe. Oh, my boys!”

One of the women went to the fence separating Bag End from the road and gripped it tightly with both hands. She started to cry. Gimli moved to stand with her. “Ma, is it from pa? Is he coming back for us?” He got no answer as the woman silently put her arms around Gimli and held him close.

Frodo wrapped himself tighter around Dis as she seemed so happy to see the raven that he feared she might accidently drop him. But her arms were strong and secure. Even when she took one arm away from him, he felt quite safe with her. 

Dis held her free arm up and waited. In moments, the raven - as big as a watermelon and scary as an angry cat - landed on Dis’ arm. The raven was a huge beast with glittering black eyes that frightened Frodo. It cawed and chattered when Dis spoke to it, the same as she would speak to any other person, and it fascinated Frodo how they apparently understood each other. He wondered if Dis could speak to turkeys, too. Maybe geese?

“They’ll be here within the hour!” Dis announced to the gathered dwarves and the tense silence was broken with loud cheering. Some people cried and children began dancing. The raven flew away from Dis and landed on the top of Bag End where it seemed content enough to hunt for insects in the grass.

“Is that Uncle Bilbo?” Frodo asked. “Is he coming now?”

“Yes. Oh, yes, he comes with a small party of our people.”

Frodo threw his arms around Dis’ neck and hugged her tightly. She and Gimli were his favorite dwarves as they’d both told him Uncle Bilbo was coming back.

Dis returned the hug and kissed Frodo’s forehead. “Sweet little bug,” Dis murmured. “Still, we must find out where you belong. I’m certain I haven’t seen you in the area since I’ve been here. We can’t have your folks worrying for you. Won’t you tell me who you belong to?” She asked this as she fetched him a carrot and a cup of water and they went to sit in the garden.

Frodo didn’t quite have the words to tell her that his parents were dead. It was still something that was hard to even think about and something he never wanted to talk about. “I belong to Uncle Bilbo. I want to stay.”

“Bilbo? Bilbo Baggins?” Dis’ eyes widened with surprise. “That sweet little pup who went off with my brother? Goodness, it is a small world. Still, you can’t be his. I shouldn’t think he’d leave you behind.”

Frodo didn’t have the right words to explain. It was too hard. He was saved from trying when he heard a shout, “Frodo Baggins, what are you doing here?” 

“Hi, Gaffer!” Frodo shouted, back with a wave. His darkening mood instantly evaporated when he saw little Samwise, just a tiny little tot, in his da’s arms. Frodo had actually known Samwise for a good long while as his mama had often babysat for the Gamgees if they needed a little help. Frodo reached out, “Gimme my Sammy!”

The Gaffer laughed. “Living in Brandy Hall has done nothing good for your manners, lad. My little Sammy needs to learn good manners from his friends.”

With a huff, Frodo crossed his arms. “Can I play with Sammy, please?” Samwise was a good several years younger than Frodo. He couldn’t speak more than two or three words and could hardly walk without falling down, but he was still Frodo’s best friend in the whole world and his favorite baby.

“That’s much better.” Gaffer set Samwise down in the grass of Bag End’s front garden and turned to speak with Dis as soon as Frodo wiggled to get her to set him down and he went to sit with Samwise. Samwise was such a serious little baby that Frodo had always taken great delight in making him laugh every time he got to spend time with Samwise. He would tickle Samwise’s feet and make faces and sing silly songs, all for the benefit of getting Samwise to giggle.

“The raven said they’ll be here any time,” Dis told the Gaffer. “There can’t be any danger between where they are and here, so they’ll make excellent time.”

“Too right.” Gaffer ran a hand through his thick, curly hair. “I don’t like that Master Bilbo went running off like that. He’s had a rough life, grew up too fast, and now… adventures?”

“I told you – my people will have looked out for him. He’s perfectly fine.” She paused for a moment. “You seem to know our young guest. Where does Frodo belong?”

Frodo stopped listening and started singing to Samwise. He knew where he belonged.

Gaffer never got a chance to answer. Just at that moment, Uncle Bilbo came home. He brought more dwarves with him, too. They all came riding ponies, stirring up dust from the roads. From where Frodo watched with the dwarves of Bag End, he could see hobbits come curiously out of their homes to watch the procession. Gaffer picked up Samwise and took himself home after he told Dis that he didn’t want to be in the way and that he’d be over later to have a chat. Gaffer looked at the approaching party and shook his head. As he walked away, Frodo heard him mutter, “Riding a pony? Who would have thought?”

The whole world, for Frodo, narrowed. He saw Uncle Bilbo. Even at such a distance, he saw Uncle Bilbo riding one of the ponies, laughing at something one of his dwarves said. Frodo bolted down the road. He wasn’t alone. The dwarves all ran towards their loved ones. There was yelling and laughter and Frodo saw the minute when Uncle Bilbo and his dwarves realized they’d been seen.

Uncle Bilbo was dressed a little differently than the last time Frodo had seen him, but it was definitely Uncle Bilbo. His hair was a little longer and he rode on a pony as if he were completely at ease - it was the bravest thing Frodo had ever seen! Frodo glanced, quickly at the dwarves traveling with Uncle Bilbo. There was one with a very fancy hair style that made him look rather like a star and one with long, dark hair and almost no beard at all. There was one with a very big, red beard and one dwarf with gray hair and an ear-trumpet. At the rear of the group rode the biggest dwarf Frodo had ever seen – he was nearly as big as a man – and a dwarf with a long moustache.

All-in-all, they were a fine party. Very interesting. Frodo approved of Uncle Bilbo’s dwarves and hoped Uncle Bilbo would like the dwarves Frodo had found.

“Ma!” The cry sounded out so loudly that Frodo wondered if his family in Brandy Hall had heard it. One of the dwarves - the one with loose, dark hair - urged his pony into a run and shouted, again, “Ma!”

Frodo squeaked when he was swept right up off his feet and into Dis’ arms even as she shouted, “My boy!” There were tears in her eyes. “My sweet Kili. He’s alive. Thank you. Oh, thank you!” Frodo wasn’t sure if she was thanking him or not, but he couldn’t asked as she was running towards the approaching party. Everyone was running.

Ahead, Frodo watched as Kili scrambled to dismount his pony with poor grace. He seemed to be so excited that his foot caught in the stirrup and he tripped himself. Quickly, he got back to his feet and started running to Dis. He ran with a distinct limp, but ran as fast as he could. Behind him, other dwarves had left their ponies and ran to meet loved ones. When Dis finally reached Kili and wrapped him in a warm hug, Frodo was included. He quite liked that. Frodo snuggled for a moment, then wiggled. “Please put me down. Please.” Dis did as he asked and Frodo shot through the crowd of happy dwarves and made a bee-line straight for Uncle Bilbo. He screeched out, “Uncle!”

Uncle Bilbo looked surprised to see him, but smiled brightly. He, too, slipped off his pony and held out his arms. Frodo eagerly latched onto his uncle for a hug. That was the hug Frodo had been waiting for since the day his parents had died. Uncle Bilbo had the best hugs. His hugs were warm and strong, but never tight or squeezing. He felt his whole body relax all at once and let his head rest on Uncle Bilbo’s shoulder for a minute before he looked up. Uncle Bilbo looked… different. His face was tanned and there were lines around his eyes. Most startling of all was a long scar that reached from the top of his forehead down to his right eyebrow. It was a very impressive scar.

“Why! If it isn’t my dear Frodo,” Uncle Bilbo smiled. “Look how big you are! I think you must have grown two whole inches since I saw you last! I missed you.”

Frodo held tightly to Uncle Bilbo. “Missed you, too. Love you, Uncle Bilbo.”

 

To be continued…


	24. Home

Chapter 24 – Home

As they made their way back to Bag End, surrounded by many dwarves, Uncle Bilbo carried Frodo who clung to his uncle for all that he was worth. He rested his cheek against the warmth of Uncle Bilbo’s shoulder and, for the first time since he’d been told that his parents weren’t coming home, he started to relax. He said nothing while they walked, but Uncle Bilbo didn’t seem to mind. He gave Frodo a gentle squeeze now and then and kissed his cheek. While they walked down the road to Bag End, Uncle Bilbo introduced his dwarves – Bofur, Kili, Gloin, Oin, Dwalin, and Nori - and told them all how Frodo was his very youngest cousin and that he had many stories to tell Frodo.

The whole group of dwarves and two hobbits walked back to Bag End in a merry parade and, when they reached Bag End, they all sat together on the front lawn. Bag End was quite big enough to hold everyone, but there wasn’t a single room big enough to hold everyone all at once and they all wanted to be together. The dwarves were very loud. There was quite a bit of crying and laughter and stories.

It was during that happy time when Frodo, sitting on Uncle Bilbo’s lap, turned a little and whispered into Uncle Bilbo’s ear, “Mama and papa are drowned in the river. They’re not coming home.”

Uncle Bilbo looked at Frodo with wide eyes. He shook a little and his arms tightened around Frodo. Tears filled his eyes. “Frodo? Oh… my dear boy…” It seemed, for just a moment, that all the dwarves faded away and it was only Frodo and Uncle Bilbo sitting together. Slowly, Uncle Bilbo’s arms slipped around Frodo and he was given the biggest, gentlest hug that a hobbit could want. Uncle Bilbo kissed him on the top of his head and held him for a long while. After a time, Uncle Bilbo stood and led Frodo over to Kili. “I need to go have a talk with the Gaffer. I want you to stay with Kili while I’m gone.”

Frodo immediately dug his feet into the ground and pulled Uncle Bilbo to a stop. “No.”

Uncle Bilbo ran a hand over Frodo’s hair. “I’ll be right back – on my honor. Kili is lots of fun; you’ll like him.”

Frodo narrowed his eyes. “Don’t go to any rivers.”

“I won’t. I’ll just go to the Gamgee’s home and then I’ll be right back.”

With that promise, Frodo allowed himself to be led to the new dwarf who was sitting with Miss Dis. He had long hair, like all dwarves, and the scruffy start of a beard. He looked completely stunned when Frodo plunked himself down in his lap. “Remember,” Frodo warned Uncle Bilbo. “You promised. No rivers.”

“Don’t worry,” Uncle Bilbo assured him. “A Baggins never breaks their promises.”

He left and Frodo made himself comfortable on Kili’s lap. That didn’t last too long as Kili wasn’t one for sitting still and his mother finally said, 

“Why don’t you take Frodo for a walk? I’m sure he doesn’t want to sit here and be bored with all the adults. Off with you.”

And so, off they went. Frodo got carried, which he didn’t mind at all because dwarves were very tall and Frodo got to feel like he was flying when Kili easily heaved Frodo up to sit on his shoulders. They walked around Bag End and Frodo got to see a very scary troll statue that Kili said Uncle Bilbo had carved.

“Shows a lot of promise. Very good. Very good.” Mister Bofur admired the wooden troll and examined it from all angles. He even ran his hand over its face. “He’s got a lot of raw talent. This is excellent. I wonder if he’ll want it brought back to the mountain.” 

By the time they finished walking around Bag End and made it back to where Miss Dis and the rest of the dwarves were relaxing, Uncle Bilbo was coming back. Frodo sat between Kili and Miss Dis and watched Uncle Bilbo slowly coming up the hill from the Gamgee home, his face lowered and his shoulders slumped. Without a word to any of the dwarves, Uncle Bilbo picked up Frodo and carried him into Bag End. Together, they sat in a rocking chair in the library.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry you lost your parents, my boy.” Uncle Bilbo kissed Frodo on the forehead. “Gaffer told me everything. I wish I’d been here for you when it happened.”

Frodo sniffled.

“I hope you’ll always remember how much they loved you. When you and I first met – you remember that day, don’t you? – they were absolutely frantic because they thought you were well lost and no one had seen you for an hour. They loved you.”

Frodo leaned more against Uncle Bilbo.

“When my mother died, the pain was unspeakable. When my father died, it felt like my whole world fell down around me. Some people… some people thought my mother didn’t care for me because she traveled so much. They were wrong. She loved me. Some people thought my father didn’t care for me because he held me to such high standards. They were wrong. My parents showed their love in different ways, and that was very, very hard for me, but they did love me. I try to keep that in mind, no matter what anyone says because that thought makes the pain a little easier to bear. Love helps heal the pain.” He said nothing else and they sat together in silence, each one thinking of lost family.

“Bilbo? Lad? Sorry to disturb, but,” Mister Bofur, who hadn’t bothered to knock on the door stood with his lovely hat in his hands. “You’ve got visitors. I think they’re anxious for the boy.”

Outside, there were four hobbits at the gate. Miss Dis and several of the other dwarves had gotten to their feet and gone over to speak, but they didn’t seem as if they’d let the other hobbits through the gate any time soon. Frodo waved to his Grandma Mirabella and Grandpa Gorbadoc when he saw them and wondered why everyone looked so upset. Uncle Bilbo had even turned tense and grim. He gave Frodo to Bofur with the gentle direction to, “Stay with Mister Bofur, dear. I’ll take care of this.”

“Lad,” Mister Bofur said, even as he took Frodo. “Is one of them that cousin you told us about? The one that wants you to lose your home? You want me to handle this?”

“No, but thank you. Everything is going to be alright. I should have done this long ago.”

His face set with grim determination, Uncle Bilbo turned and walked over to the visitors with Mister Nori at his side. Frodo liked Mister Nori because he told silly jokes and had very impressive eyebrows. Mister Bofur held Frodo on one hip, but didn’t sit. Rather, Mister Bofur slowly inched his way over to stand with Uncle Bilbo and Mister Nori. Mister Dwalin and Mister Gloin watched ominously, but didn’t try to interfere.

The Thain, Grandpa Gorbadoc, Grandma Mirabella, and Cousin Vambo Tubber had all come and stood waiting at the front gate. Cousin Vambo stood behind the Thain and Grandpa Gorbadoc, as was his place, but tapped his foot impatiently. Grandma Mirabella wrung her hands and paced back and forth along the fence until she saw Frodo and then she let out a relieved breath. She looked like she might cry and Frodo felt badly, but he didn’t really understand why. 

Uncle Bilbo squared his shoulders as he walked over to the gate and opened it. “Good afternoon. Please, come in, won’t you -”

“Frodo Baggins!” Grandma Mirabella cried out. “We’ve been worried half to death! Are you alright?”

Grandpa Gorbadoc said, “You’ve had us worried sick! You know not to run off by yourself. Are you hurt? You’re not hurt, are you? Have you eaten?” 

Frodo listened politely while Grandpa Gorbadoc went on and, when he’d finished, Frodo said, “Hi, grandpa.”

“Hi.”

Frodo waved at his grandma. “Sorry, grandma. I’m okay. I wanted Uncle Bilbo. Am I in trouble?”

Grandpa Gorbadoc gave a shaky laugh. “No, I don’t think so. Your grandma’s right, though - you shouldn’t run off without telling someone. We were all worried that you’d wandered into the forest or fallen in the river.”

“Sorry.” Frodo didn’t understand what the fuss was about, but he was sure that if it was all that important, someone would explain it to him. He looked over at Uncle Bilbo and the Thain, with a narrow-eyed Cousin Vambo staring intently at Bag End. “What’s happening?”

Everyone turned their attention to Uncle Bilbo and the Thain and listened while they spoke about Uncle Bilbo’s adventure. After only a few moments, Cousin Vambo interrupted them, 

“Enough with this!” It was unspeakably rude and made Frodo’s grandma gasp in shock to hear someone being so ill-mannered. Cousin Vambo didn’t seem to care about how improper he was being. “I have waited long enough to get this settled. Bilbo, you know I’m only doing this for the sake of your mother’s memory. Belladonna’s final wishes need to be respected, I’m sure you’ll agree. You can’t argue with that. You can’t want to stay here if she wanted something else for Bag End and it’s not as if you’d be destitute with the fortune your father left you. And, really, you must admit-”

“Blow it out your ear.” Uncle Bilbo said it as politely as anyone could and smiled at Cousin Vambo. “You complete and utter belly-crawler.”

Everyone went very quiet. Kili started to snicker, despite his mother elbowing him in the ribs. Grandpa Gorbadoc’s eyes went very wide. The Thain looked like it might laugh, but managed to control himself. Mister Bofur howled with laugher and set Frodo down on the ground, though he kept a firm grip on Frodo’s hand.

Cousin Vambo spluttered. “What… Bilbo, what are you…”

“You can’t convince me for even one moment that you have any care about my mother’s final wishes. You came sniffing around Bag End not two days after my father had been buried. You are nothing but an opportunistic, greedy, two-faced hobbit with no better manners than a garden slug. If there had ever been any doubt about what my mother wished, then grandfather,” Uncle Bilbo jabbed a finger at the Thrain, “would have investigated it long ago.”

“Now, just a moment-”

“No, I will not wait a moment. I’ve had to deal with your insinuations about my mother for years and I’m done with it. You have no right – no right at all! – to keep insisting that you ought to make a search of my home on the off chance that you might find a will. No other person in the entire Shire would be asked to submit to any such an indignity as to have their home searched, their personal possessions rifled through, on the unfounded suspicion - that is really more like a hope - that something might be found that will lead to the loss of their home. How does your dream play out? Will something, some letter or half-written note be found that you can use as an excuse to call into question my ownership? Do you think Bag End will become a Took holding and, as you’re the ‘so-called’ compassionate relation who only cared for my dear mother’s wishes, you’ll be able to get a hold of it for a song?” Uncle Bilbo said it all very calmly, as if none of it bothered him at all, but there was a sharp look in his eyes. “Maybe you’ll start the rumor that I shouldn’t have Bag End because I’m clearly hiding my mother’s will.”

Cousin Vambo protested, “There is no reason at all to be all dramatic!”

“Dramatic?” Uncle Bilbo voice rose and he stepped closer to Cousin Vambo. “You want to hear dramatic? You no-good, low-down, son of a- !”

Frodo didn’t hear the rest of what Uncle Bilbo said because Mister Bofur leaned over and slipped his hands over Frodo’s ears. The whole world went silent, but Frodo watched as the Thain and Grandpa Gorbadoc stared at Uncle Bilbo and looked entirely shocked. Cousin Vambo’s mouth hung open and he turned as red an apple. All the while, Uncle Bilbo kept talking. He jabbed his finger aggressively at Cousin Vambo while he spoke. It went on and on and Uncle Bilbo never seemed to run out of breath. Frodo wished he knew what Uncle Bilbo was saying, but Mister Bofur seemed determined to keep him from hearing even a single word. Eventually, Uncle Bilbo wound down and Mister Bofur released Frodo’s ears.

“All that being said,” Uncle Bilbo said, “I AM going to allow my home to be searched.”

Everyone seemed shocked by that. The Thain stepped forward. “Bilbo… are you sure? You don’t have to do this. Not now. There are laws and procedures to be followed.”

“Oh, I think I do. I want this cleared up once and for all. I want to stop thinking about this all the time.”

Cousin Vambo looked immensely pleased by Uncle Bilbo’s decision and started to walk towards Bag End. He was stopped after only a few steps when Uncle Bilbo stepped into his path.

“Not you. I don’t trust you for a moment. Grandfather and Mister Brandybuck can search my home. I trust them.”

“They’re your relatives. They’re bias.”

“You fool. They’re your relatives, too.”

“Oh… yes.”

There was, of course, nothing found. Both the Thain and Grandpa Gorbadoc searched Bag End for hours. No one could accuse them of doing a poor job. They searched here and there and still managed to be respectful of both Bilbo’s belongings and those of the dwarves who’d lived in Bag End for the past many months. In the end, they both gave their judgment - Bag End belong to Bilbo as the sole heir of his mother. There was no contesting the point. There was no will.

Cousin Vambo was angry. He looked all around, as if trying to find a solution, an argument, something, but there was nothing. “There HAS to be a will. She wouldn’t have left her home to him!”

“Why wouldn’t she?” The Thain shook his head. “We looked in every nook and cranny and I can assure you that Belladonna never left anything with me or the rest of the family. Why are you pushing this so much? You’ve been badgering Bilbo for years and you never did give me a decent explanation about why you think Belladonna would have even considered leaving her home to anyone other than her only child.”

Cousin Vambo’s eyes narrowed. “He doesn’t deserve to be here.”

“Here now!” Mister Bofur spoke up for the first time since the whole confrontation had begun. “You saying our Bilbo isn’t good enough?”

It seemed to break a dam inside Cousin Vambo and he burst out, “She didn’t love him!” He gestured wildly at Bilbo. “Everyone knows it, they just won’t say it! If she’d loved Bilbo, she wouldn’t have spent her life traveling away from him and that cold-hearted husband of hers!” He laughed wildly and Mister Bofur nudged Frodo a little further away from the ranting hobbit. “Oh, she married him, but he had to try to buy her love with Bag End. It turned her head just long enough for her to marry him, but she must have realized it was a mistake or she wouldn’t have kept adventuring. She must have been trying to keep away from him and Bilbo. Bag End belonged to her. It was her property, the only thing of any value that she ever got out of her marriage. Why would she want something so valuable to her be given to someone she didn’t care about?”

Uncle Bilbo had gone very pale.

The Thain’s face was red and he looked ready to strike Cousin Vambo. “That is a… bold… claim.”

“It’s the truth!” Cousin Vambo insisted, fervently. “She never should have married Bungo; I loved her more than he ever could have.” That seemed to shock everyone. “Bungo took her away from me. His child deserves nothing of Belladonna’s! She probably never even wanted him!”

Uncle Bilbo seemed to shrink in on himself for a moment and that was too much for Frodo. He slipped away from Mister Bofur and ran over to bite Cousin Vambo on the arm. There was a sting of pain when Cousin Vambo pushed Frodo away and Frodo landed on the ground on his backside. He looked up just in time to see Grandma Mirabella punch Cousin Vambo right on the nose hard enough to knock him off his feet.

“You cretin!” Grandma Mirabella shrieked. “You keep your hands off my Frodo! I ought to tear you apart!”

There was dead silence.

Uncle Bilbo had a sword in his hand. Mister Nori was crouched over, ready to leap at Cousin Vambo. Even jolly Mister Bofur and Kili were looking distinctly unhappy. Mister Gloin, who turned out to be Gimli’s father, looked as if he might take his ax to Cousin Vambo. Dwalin, who hadn’t said a single word since they’d arrived, glared down at Cousin Vambo and grumbled. “I don’t like little ‘uns getting hit.”

Cousin Vambo gulped and tried to inch away from Mister Dwalin.

Miss Dis cracked her knuckles and said, “I would like to let it be known… Bilbo, dear, put your sword away and let me handle this… that any further antagonism against Master Bilbo Baggins will be seen as an affront to the royal house of Erebor.” Miss Dis looked down at Cousin Vambo even as Mister Bofur scooped Frodo up off the ground and held him while Uncle Bilbo started to check Frodo head-to-foot for any injuries. “We are all greatly fond of our Master Baggins and, now, I find myself quite fond of young Master Baggins, as well. I know from what my kin has told me that my brother, the KING of Erebor, has put Bilbo Baggins under his personal protection and has claimed him as a fosterling, bringing him legally into our family. Dwarves are well-known for our value of family. I value these hobbits greatly. Leave them alone.” It was all said very quietly, but something about what she said must have frightened Cousin Vambo because he turned white and froze in place until Grandpa Gorbadoc seized him by the collar and yanked him to his feet.

“Off with you before I take my walking stick to you! Hitting a little child like Frodo – be ashamed!” Grandpa Gorbadoc swung his walking stick with feeling and Cousin Vambo, wisely, ran.

Once he was gone, there was another terrible moment of silence amongst everyone until Grandma Mirabella spoke up and said, “Mister… Bofur, was it? Would you mind taking Frodo inside and getting him a bite to eat? He looks right famished.”

Frodo was, like all hobbit children, always ready to eat, so he didn’t argue when Mister Bofur took him into Bag End and began hunting for a snack. Out the kitchen window, Frodo watched as the Thain, Grandpa Gorbadoc, Grandma Mirabella, and Uncle Bilbo all stepped away from the dwarves to speak together. Then Uncle Bilbo went to speak to Miss Dis.

It wasn’t until after Frodo ate the apple Mister Bofur gave him and finished a glass of milk that he was allowed to go back outside. Uncle Bilbo took Frodo from Mister Bofur and set him on the ground. “My boy, your grandma and grandpa want to talk to you for a minute. I’ll wait with Mister Bofur. Just remember, your grandpa and grandma and I all want you to be happy.” He walked away and left Frodo with his grandparents. As they walked away, Frodo heard Uncle Bilbo say to Mister Bofur, “This is not how I expected this trip home to go.”

Mister Bofur threw an arm over Uncle Bilbo’s shoulders. “Don’t worry, lad. This just means you’re not the baby of the family, anymore. We don’t love you any less.”

Uncle Bilbo elbowed Mister Bofur. “I’m MUCH more mature than Fili and Kili!”

“Sure you are. I’ll remember that the next time I catch you putting mud in Kili’s boots.”

Uncle Bilbo huffed. “Well… he started it. He put a mouse in my pocket.”

“You like mice.”

“I like most all animals, but I don’t want a porcupine in my pocket either!”

“Frodo,” Grandpa Gorbadoc knelt down to look Frodo in the eye and took his attention away from Uncle Bilbo and Mister Bofur. “You know your grandma and I love you very much, don’t you?”

Frodo nodded, quickly. He knew that very well. “I love you, too, Grandpa.”

“Good. That’s good.”

Frodo frowned. He didn’t understand why Grandpa Gorbadoc looked like he was going to cry, but had the sneaking suspicion that he’d done something wrong and upset his grandpa. That made Frodo squirm uneasily. He hadn’t wanted to upset anyone.

“You aren’t very happy at Brandy Hall, are you? I know it’s hard. There are so many people there, so many children, that you don’t get as much attention as I think you need right now.” He looked thoughtful. He looked over at Uncle Bilbo and the dwarves, then back at Frodo. “Do you still want to go live with your Uncle Bilbo in that far away mountain?”

Frodo bit his lip. He really didn’t want to make his grandpa unhappy. “Maybe?”

“Tell me the truth, Frodo. You won’t make me mad.”

He felt suddenly very guilty and nodded his head without a word.

Grandpa Gorbadoc smiled. “Well, then, I think you should go. Your grandma and I have been talking, even before your Uncle Bilbo came back. After we lost your parents, I thought it would be good for you to be surrounded by family, but… it seems I was wrong. Brandy Hall was just too busy, too loud.” He motioned for Uncle Bilbo to rejoin them. “You need a little more attention than you can get in our full home.”

Uncle Bilbo added, “And with my dwarves, you’ll have as much attention as you could possibly want.”

Grandpa Gorbadoc hugged Frodo. “I wish you all the happiness in the world, Frodo.”

Grandma Mirabella rushed in to hug him, too. “Come back to visit when you can. As soon as you can. We love you so much!”

That week, they left The Shire. They took time to pack up some heirlooms that Bilbo couldn’t give up – a book of fairy tales, his father’s pipe, a pair of pearl earring his mother had been so proud of – and packed away what wouldn’t be taken. Other things could be sent for at a later time or would be simply left in storage for when Frodo was old enough to claim his inheritance.

“Inheritance?” The Thain asked Uncle Bilbo. “Bag End is to be for Frodo, then?”

“Of course. Who else? I’ve spoken to the Gaffer and he’s agreed to be steward of Bag End until Frodo comes back to claim it. If Frodo decides he doesn’t want Bag End, ownership of it will go to the Gaffer entirely and it can be passed down through his family.”

“So,” the Thain said, quietly. “You don’t plan to return to us?” He sighed and ran a hand over the top of his head. “Gorbadoc said he made a mistake with Frodo when he lost his parents; that Frodo didn’t need lots of people around, he needed quiet and attention. I think… I think maybe I made a mistake with you when you were orphaned. You always seemed like a self-assured young hobbit. So calm and sensible. I thought if you needed or wanted any help after your father died, you’d ask for it. I’m sorry if I was wrong.”

Uncle Bilbo hugged the Thain. “Grandfather, I will come back, but my home will be my dwarves. Next time, we’ll come for a long visit and you can get to know them better. You’ll like them. And you handled things back then just fine. Everything turned out well enough. I don’t want you to feel guilty; you didn’t do anything wrong. I’m alright. I’m more than alright. I couldn’t be happier with how things have worked out.”

There were a couple of days spent going around the Shire to say farewell to friends and family and time spent getting the dwarves’ wagons and ponies ready for the long journey. Many, many hobbits came to Bag End to wish them all well and give gifts for the journey. Food was, naturally, the most abundant gift, but there was spare clothes especially made to fit the large dwarves and small, practical things such as sewing needles and thread, spare shoes for the ponies, as well as, surprisingly, money. Nearly every family had apparently grown fond of the dwarves and gave a few coins for the trip. When all was said and done, Miss Dis was nearly in tears from the generosity that would see them all comfortably to Erebor.

Then, it was time to leave.

On the morning that they were to leave the Shire, Uncle Bilbo bundled up Frodo in a warm coat and had Kili, who was very tall, lift Frodo up on the seat of the wagon that Miss Dis drove. He was to sit beside her during the trip. Frodo had suspected that Uncle Bilbo thought Frodo was too small to ride a pony, but Uncle Bilbo had quietly assured him that the arrangement was made because Kili wanted to ride his pony and that meant Miss Dis would be lonely, so it was Frodo’s job to keep her company. Frodo was quite happy with the explanation and took his job seriously.

All went well until they started to go by the Gamgee’s home and Frodo realized that they weren’t stopping. He had thought they would stop, that Uncle Bilbo knew Frodo had to go there before they left. But the wagons rolled on and the ponies kept walking. Frodo had to stop. The Gamgee’s had something Frodo absolutely couldn’t live without! 

Frodo shouted, “Stop! Wait! Wait!” 

As soon as Miss Dis pulled the ponies to a halt, Frodo scrambled off the wagon’s bench and ran with all his might to the door of the Gamgee home where he pounded on the door with both fists.

Missus Gamgee answered and when she saw Frodo she smiled down on him, warmly. “Hello, dear. Have you come to say goodbye, again?”

Gaffer Gamgee appeared beside his wife and he, too, smiled at Frodo. “We’ll miss your visits, lad.”

And because he did like them, Frodo gave them each a hug. Then he dashed between them, into their home, where he went straight to the nursery and found Sammy in his crib. Sammy waved his arms happily at Frodo. Without hesitation, Frodo picked Sammy up and carried him out of the nursery. At the front door of the Gamgee’s home, he found Sammy’s parents and Uncle Bilbo.

“Where do you think you’re taking him?” Uncle Bilbo asked.

“Home. He’s my Sammy, so he’s gonna live with me and my new dwarves.”

“Oh. Dear. Sweetheart, you can’t bring Samwise with us.”

Frodo held Sammy tighter. “But… he’s MY Sammy!”

“I know you care for Samwise very much and I’m sure he cares for you, too, but he’s a baby and he needs to be with his mother and father.” Uncle Bilbo knelt down on the floor to look Frodo in the eyes. “We wouldn’t take Samwise away from his family, would we? I think that would make him very sad.”

Frodo was going to cry. He wanted to go with Uncle Bilbo, but he hadn’t once thought that would mean leaving his Sammy behind.

“We’ll come back,” Uncle Bilbo reassured him. “We’ll come back in a few seasons and you’ll be able to meet Samwise when he’s a little older and he’ll be able to play with you.”

“He won’t remember me.”

“Then you will have the pleasure of getting to know him all over again and you’ll be able to tell him about all the fun you had playing together when he was a baby. And, if you work very hard at your lessons, soon you’ll be able to write letters to Samwise. How about that?”

“He can’t read. He’s a baby.”

“I’ll read to him,” Gaffer Gamgee gently said. “You write him any letters you like and I’ll read them to him and we’ll save them. When he grows up a bit, he’ll be able to read them himself and he’ll get to know you that way and he’ll learn all about what it’s like for a hobbit to go traveling the world and live with dwarves.” He then held out his arms and waited.

Frodo sniffled and kissed Sammy on the cheek. Then he handed him to Gaffer Gamgee. “Promise you’ll read to him?”

“I promise.”

Frodo looked at Uncle Bilbo. “Promise to teach me to write words?”

“I promise.” Uncle Bilbo swept Frodo into a hug and held him tightly before stood up and picked Frodo up. “We need to go, dear. Say ‘good-bye’.”

“Good-bye, Gaffer. Good-by, Missus Gamgee. Good-bye, my Sammy.”

They were off. Frodo, though, refused to leave his Uncle Bilbo after that and so the two of them sat with Miss Dis on the wagon bench. Frodo spent a good part of the morning snuggled into Uncle Bilbo’s side sobbing into his waistcoat while Uncle Bilbo rubbed Frodo’s back, consolingly.

“Lots of letters, dear,” Uncle Bilbo said, over and over. “You can write Samwise as many letters as you like.”

While Frodo was sure he would miss his Sammy forever and ever, the novelty of adventure dulled his grief. By the time they reached the three giant stone trolls, Frodo was happy as a clam to listen to Mister Bofur’s retelling of that little story until Uncle Bilbo interrupted with, “Bofur! There were no fairies! You’re making things up.”

“But those are the best sort of stories, my wee lad.”

It confused Frodo, at first, how the dwarves would talk to Uncle Bilbo as if he was a child, but as Uncle Bilbo didn’t seem unhappy about it, Frodo decided it was alright. He liked Uncle Bilbo’s dwarves almost as much as he liked his own dwarves.

They went to Rivendell, which Frodo liked because Mister Elrond had a fish pond with green fish. 

They went over tall mountains, which Frodo didn’t like because it was cold and rainy and Uncle Bilbo had nightmares all the time they were there.

They visited a gigantic man, Beorn, who had lots of lovely animals and the best honeybees Frodo had ever seen. Beorn was a lovely person and gave Frodo very nice bread and tea sweetened with honey.

They went to a terrible forest which had Uncle Bilbo muttering to Mister Bofur that he had asked the Thain to see if any other hobbits might be willing to make the journey to Mirkwood to help heal it, for it needed a lot of help. Frodo believe that as just walking on the ground made his feet feel icky and he clung to either Uncle Bilbo or Miss Dis as they rode down the dark, winding path. That lasted until they were met by a group of elves. All were armed and much fairer than Mister Elrond’s people. They took the whole group to where they lived, even though it made the dwarves and Uncle Bilbo unhappy, which made Frodo dislike them. 

The elf king, who was very grand and scary welcomed them stiffly to his kingdom. He spoke mainly to Miss Dis until he saw Uncle Bilbo and Frodo.

“I have been told by the ever eloquent Master Balin that I may have been mistaken of your identity, Master Baggins. My… apologies. No insult was meant.”

“None taken, I’m sure.” Uncle Bilbo kept a tight hold of Frodo’s hand.

The situation was very uncomfortable, even though Frodo didn’t really know what was going, but the tension was broken when a human girl, who was very much taller than Frodo, but very much smaller than the elf king, ran into the throne room. She came laughing happily, all dressed like a little elf with her brown hair flying out behind her as she ran. Without hesitation, she ran straight to Mister Thranduil and threw herself onto his lap.

“Uncle Thran, I saw butterflies today, but Kessi said I must stay away because they aren’t nice and I wanted to go fishing, but you haven’t got much for good fish in the rivers, so I played tag with Sebetti and then hide-and-seek and has father come to visit, yet? I miss him and Bane. Won’t Dale be finished soon?” She chattered cheerfully, not once seeing how scary Mister Thranduil was. “Sigrid is still having princess lessons. Do I have to take lessons, too? Is being a princess hard? I want to be a blacksmith and my favorite dwarves said I can go learn with them in the mountain.”

It was impossible for even Frodo to miss how Mister Thranduil winced. Miss Dis laughed uproariously.

“If you wish to be a blacksmith, you ought to speak with your father, Tilda,” Mister Thranduil answered. “Yes, you will have princess lessons. You father is to be king, so you will have to know how to behave.”

“I’m a very good girl!” She protested, clearly insulted by the suggestion that she was anything but perfectly well-behaved. 

Miss Dis stepped forward. “You know, you can be both a princess and a blacksmith. I myself and both a princess and a leatherworker.”

The little girl’s eyes lit up. “Oh, that’s wonderful. Then father will be pleased with me and I can be a blacksmith, too.”

“Yes,” Miss Dis gave Mister Thranduil a funny smile. “My big brother will be sure to give you a few lessons. He’s a master blacksmith.”

When Tilda clapped her hands with delight, Mister Thranduil looked like he would be ill. “I have fine elven blacksmiths right here. She doesn’t have to go to Erebor.”

But Tilda shook her head. “I want to see how dwarves live, so I want to see the mountain. I know what elves are like, now.” Her eyes lit up with excitement as an idea seemed to strike her all at once. “You can come with me and we can both learn from the dwarves!” 

“Ahhh…” Mister Thranduil faltered. Then he smiled. “Here’s Sigrid. Why don’t you go with her for a bit?”

Sigrid, who looked very nearly grown-up to Frodo, was also dressed as an elf, with her brown hair hanging loose around her shoulders. She smiled at the dwarves and Uncle Bilbo, so she must have been a good person. She and Tilda left the throne room with an elf lady dressed in armor. 

The moment the two girls were gone, Mister Thranduil snarled at Dis, “I won’t have you luring Tilda away with blacksmithing! Those are MY children!”

“I think Bard might question that,” Mister Bofur said with a laugh.

Mister Thranduil put his nose in the air. “He would understand entirely!”

They left the elves and, soon after they passed a very big lake that had once had a town built on it – if Kili was being honest – and then they came to the mountain. Towering over the land by miles, with the peak covered in snow, Erebor seemed to dominate the whole world. Riding towards them, from Erebor, were more dwarves on ponies. Uncle Bilbo, holding Frodo as they walked along beside Miss Dis’ wagon, hugged Frodo and joyfully whispered, “We’re home.”

 

To be continued…


End file.
